Time To Go
by Pamala
Summary: Found in the infirmary at the time of escape Sara becomes a willing hostage on the run to freedom.
1. Chapter 1

" Time to go " 1/1

Disclaimer : Anything at all to do with "Prison Break" and its characters is not mine.

I never gave him a chance to tell me his reasons. I said what I had to say, walked away, and found the answers for myself.

Maybe it was easy to see for anyone who bothered to really look? Or maybe there was just something about him I understood that made it simple for me.

Either way I got the answers I wanted and was waiting in the infirmary when the time came.

At the time, I guess I believed I could stop him.

Looking back, I can see even then, I knew that wasn't true. I sat in that dark room, knowing I was powerless over what would happen when they found me, simply because I had no other choice but to be there when he came.

Expecting only Michael and his brother, I was shocked that night to see the odd collection of men standing before me in the darkness. 

As I opened my mouth to speak, having no idea what I'd say, he grabbed hold of me, putting his hand over my mouth, as his arm wrapped around my waist pulling me to him.  
With his eyes on the others, quiet and controlled yet loud enough for all to hear, he said... " Don't scream. We won't hurt you. "

It only took a moment to make the decision and do as he said. I put my life in hands.

My heart pounded as I watched all their faces and listened quietly as they debated my fate. As they discussed leaving me unconscious, or dead,  
by moving slightly in his arms I began to realize that his hold on me was for show and I could break free or scream anytime I chose to.

This subtle test of my captivity didn't go unnoticed.  
As the others continued to argue quietly I felt his grasp tighten around my waist as he pulled me closer and whispered into my ear. " Don't! I'll protect you."

Trusting his words, I offered my acceptance the only way I could, by stopping my struggle and allowing myself to go limp in his arms.

Our pact made, he said the words I've thrown back in his face each time he's urged me to leave since that night...

"She's a hostage, guys. No one's going to try to stop us with the Governor's daughter standing in the way!"

" Didn't you sleep?"

I didn't realize he was awake. I never do.

Paying careful and quiet attention while managing to go completely unnoticed is something he does with ease. A unique effect of prison life, I suppose.

" Not much " I can't see the sense in lying since I have no idea how long he's been awake watching me stare at the ceiling. " I was just thinking."

As soon as I say the words he begins pulling away by shifting his warm body that was, until that moment, pressed pleasantly against my own, as far over as the less than roomy double bed will allow.

" It's time for you to go and we both know it. "

Each time we have this conversation he does all he can to put physical distance between us and this time it's no different. He lies there on his side, watching me at a safe distance, waiting for agreement he must know by now he's not going to get.  
" I mean it. You have to to go, Sara"

All I can do is stare back in disbelief.  
Overlooking the fact that we're lying in bed together I can't begin to imagine how he could expect me to go now, just hours after he made love to me with the passion and intensity of a man desperate to hold onto someone he can't bear to be without but is sure will be ripped away from him at any moment.

Frustrated and hurt, it's my turn to pull away.  
" No! "  
As he reaches for me, I make a quick exit from the bed snatching away the sheet that covers us both, wrapping it protectively around myself as I go.  
" I'm not leaving, Michael"

He doesn't bother to cover himself and continues arguing his point.  
" Turn yourself over to the police today."

The situation unnerves me. There is something unsettling in the fact that in such a short time together he's become so comfortable that he thinks nothing of lying there, like that, in the midst of a heated confrontation.

I'd intended to walk away, slamming the bathroom door on him and the whole tired and predictable conversation but I can't help stopping to look at him.

I often wonder how aware he is that I Iook at him.

At first I convinced myself I was mesmerized by the tattoos, now that I know their meaning, but the truth is that fascination faded a long ago and now it's all about finding a reason, any reason, to look at him.

He leans up, bringing his chin to rest on his hand.  
" Give us a few hours head start then go to the police and tell them we let you go."

Watching his eyes drift over me as he speaks I can see that in spite of the sheet wrapped around my body, he apparently spends his fair share or time looking at me as well. " You'll be safe, Sara "

There's something in his tone, or maybe it's the look in his eye, that makes me want to do as he asks until something in my head reminds me why I can't leave.

" They'll kill you Michael. Without me here they'll hunt you down. They'll kill both you and Lincoln.  
You said it yourself..."

Knowing exactly what's coming he lets out an exasperated sign before collapsing back to the bed and burying his head in the pillows.

" You said it that night, without me and my father's insistence that I not be harmed in the process, they'd find you. It was true then and it's true now. I won't leave until I know you'll be safe, Michael. "

I'm surprised that he doesnt bother to argue his point. Hearing only a defeated sigh against his pillow, I find myself lulled into a false sense of security. Confident that I've made my point that he's resigned himself to my staying, I head toward the bathroom feeling somewhat victorious.

As quickly as I start to move he's up, moving across the bed and stops me in my tracks by grabbing hold of the sheet wrapped around my body. He forcefully takes hold of the material on the each side effectively using my attempt at modesty to pull me to him.  
" Damn it, Sara! I'm trying to protect you! "

With that he lets go...and the sheet falls to the floor around our feet.

Watching his face carefully and hoping he can understand my meaning, I move in, my arms wrapped around his waist, skin pressing against skin, and allow my head to rest against his chest as I speak.  
" And you have to understand that I can't stop trying to protect you."

TBC... 


	2. Chapter 2

" Tell Her She Has to Leave"

Disclaimer: Prison Break and its characters are not mine. I'm just taking them out for a little spin.

Last Time in: " Time to go"  
Michael, trying to protect Sara, tells her she has to go. Sara, trying to protect Michael, refuses to leave. They argue the point until they find something to do that doesn't require words.

" Tell Her She Has to Leave"

- An empty coffee shop later that same morning.

Perhaps in another time, another life, paging through the Sunday paper while sipping steaming hot black coffee with my older brother would seem a normal, even pleasant way to spend a morning. 

Unfortunately, for now my life is anything but normal.

He folds the paper slapping it down on the empty chair beside him. " Nothing today. "

He looks back over his shoulder checking to see if she's at a safe distance. " Quiet nearly a week now."

Checking yet again to see her still across the room standing at the counter drumming her fingers impatiently, like the last time he checked,  
he settles his silent but questioning gaze on me.

He doesn't say anything. He's never had to.

Ever since we were kids all he had to do was look me straight in the eye long enough and before I knew what was happening I'd spill whatever it was he wanted to know, without his having to utter a single word.

This time is no different. " I told her it was time for her to go."

" I heard." My confusion, written all over my face prompts him to go on; obviously amused at my inability to shut him out even now.  
" That wasn't exactly a four star hotel, Michael. The thin walls made it real easy to hear the two of you arguing about it this morning"

He glances back to be sure she isn't right standing behind him before going on.  
" And...after that... I heard something else,  
decidedly not arguing, coming through the wall?"

He has a slight smile, almost smirk on his face as he strokes his heavily stubbled chin in thought.  
" Sounded a lot like the not arguing sort of thing I heard coming through the wall about 2 am the night before."

It seems ridiculous after everything we've been though but somehow, even now, sitting there, having my older brother question me about my sex life makes me start to squirm in my seat.

Suddenly I'm unsure how to go about stating my case and enlisting his help but then a quick glance at her ties a knot of worry in the pit of my stomach, seals the deal, and chases away all discomfort.

" Listen, we find LJ and cross the border into Mexico as quick as possible. The three of us, Lincoln! She has to go back and you have to help me convince her."

No matter how complex our lives have become is seems as if our relationship stays the same.  
Feeling confident I've forcefully made my point and that he has no choice but to see it my way I'm thoroughly annoyed to see indecision written all over his face forcing me to continue.  
" Seriously! She thinks her father...the fact she is with us, is protecting all of us. You have to help me ... tell her it's not true."

" I'm not sure how to do that, Michael"  
He shoots me a genuine smile that makes me see, under any other circumstances, how pleased he'd be to be discussing a woman like her as part of my life. "She's tough and she's stubborn. Although, I can't image why she seems determined to stay with you and I doubt there's much I can say to change her mind"

"Just tell her I'm right!" The smile on his face fades quickly with the sound of her approaching footsteps and a sudden louder tone in my voice designed to allow her to hear my plea effectively dragging him into the debate whether he likes it of not.  
" She has to leave ... tell her Lincoln."

Confident of his agreement she sit down and settles those betrayed brown eyes on me instead of him.

"Actually, Michael, she's the one that's right"  
Taken completely by surprise she shifts her gaze back to him as do I. 

Fearing what he may say and believing I can somehow over power him with sheer will, I offer up one of those defiant stares he's so adept at using on me, hoping to silence him.

He tosses it right back at me, impervious, and turns to her effectively cutting me out of the debate.  
" Your father watching our backs may help but I hope you understand that's not worth putting yourself in danger."

Knowing that I'm right and he's, without realizing it, making my point; I offer my two cents even if neither of them seems interested in hearing it.  
" Wait! If that's the case then I'm right and she SHOULD go."

" Sorry Michael, you're wrong.  
The long arm of the law isn't the worry here"  
Sara, eager for what he has to say watches him carefully as he shift his gaze to me. " Its the others..." 

He looks me straight in the eyes driving home the cold hard truth of what he's saying.  
"They're the real danger to her and you know it"

Even if I'm pounding my fist against the table and screaming in frustration on the inside I can only stare silent first at him and then her as the weight of what I've done settles squarely on my own shoulders.

" Others?... What others"  
I'm looking right at her but it's as if I can barely hear her words until she reaches out to touch my hand.  
" Michael? What others?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see him pick up his cup, settle back in his chair, and leave me to explain to her the depth of the danger she's really in.

Guilt making me unable to bare her touch I take her hand, still covering my own, and lift it gently away from my own; as if severing that small bit of contact can somehow remove me and this danger from her life.

She stares at me only a moment before wrapping both hands around the rapidly cooling cup of coffee in front for her and resting her eyes there as if all the answers she needs are hidden in the nondescript chipped mug.

Her voice is even and flat as she asks to hear what I have no choice but to tell her. " Tell me... the others? "

Knowing she's not willing look at me and not real eager to look her in the eye myself, at the moment, I follow her lead and speak to my own third rate cup of coffee. " The people that framed Lincoln.  
they know you've been with us, Sara, if you go back they'll..."

I lift the mug and gulp the bitter liquid that stings my suddenly dry throat.  
" They'll use you to get to us."

Both of us left sitting there waiting, for what I'm not sure, I watch her reach over, take a donut from the plate she'd placed on the table, breaking it in two, setting half carefully on the saucer while dunking the other half methodically as she speaks.  
" And if I can't help them... they'll?"

She looks up at me her eyes pleading for the answer I don't want to hear myself say.  
" Michael?"

"They'd probably kill you"  
The voice is strong, certain, and to both our surprise not mine.

I look over just in time to see my brother nonchalantly licking jelly, from the donut he'd recently claimed, off his finger as he steps in and saves me from finding a way to tell her what I've really done to her.  
" She can't go back, Michael. They won't think twice about killing her if she refuses to lead them to us."

Keeping my eye on him, mostly because I can't face her, I can see her watching him, scared by the truth, but grateful that he has the nerve to be honest with her when I've refused too.

She looks to both of us, " Guess that settles it"  
with warmth and understanding in his direction while I'm treated to a defiant glare. " ...I stay with you two, then!"

TBC... 


	3. Chapter 3

" I Heard Him Leave"

Disclaimer: Prison Break and its characters are not mine. I'm just taking them out for a little spin.

Coffee, donuts and the understanding that I would stay with the two of them, led to a day long silent road trip to where ever the next in a steadily growing chain of, 'cash money ask no questions' motels happened to be.

I thought once we got to our room we'd have the chance to talk it out.

I was wrong!.

After a much needed shower I'd barely had time to slip into jeans and a sweater before I hear a knock coming from the room next door.

The gentle rapping distracts me for an instant and I can't help thinking how strange it is that the smallest things, like always having adjoining rooms with a door between to allow an additional way out, can suddenly stop me in my tracks and remind me I'm actually living my life on the run.

" Sara, its me. "  
The knock and his voice are both so gentle and hesitant it takes me by surprise. " Can I talk to you a minute? " I'm surprised and yet somehow I'm not.

I'd read the file. Knew what he 'had' done and of the crime he claimed to be innocent of committing, but the man himself turned out to be much different that the tale of the tape would lead one to believe.

From what I could see Lincoln Burrows was a kind and generous man, well aware of his shortcomings, and doing his best to live with a lifetime of regrets that anyone who got close enough could see hung heavy around his neck.

At first I was awed by what Michael had sacrificed for his brother. Thought it exceptional.

But over our time together, listening to Lincoln talk about his son, I've come to understand that all of this, clearing his name, is not simply about saving his life but is actually just as much about saving his name and also his son's future in the process.

Amazing men, both of them, willing do anything it takes to protect the people they love and yet neither one of them able to entertain the possibility that anyone, other then each other, would be willing to do the same for them.

" I heard him leave... "  
I open the door to find him leaning against the door frame,  
left arm outstretched with two bottles of beer dangling from between his thick fingers " I thought we could have a little talk?"

With a smile, because there is a rough charm to the man that never fails, I gesture to him to enter.  
I step aside allowing him into the room.  
Reminding me of the sheer size of the man, as if I could forget, me moves the bottles to his right hand, palming the base of both easily in one hand, pops the caps and holds them out waiting for me to take one.

" If this is the kind of talk that requires a drink I'm thinking maybe I'd rather not." Expecting him to laugh off my concern I find myself quickly alarmed by what needs to be said, when instead of making light he quietly hands me the bottle, takes a long swig from his own and deposits himself in a tacky avocado green armchair under the window with a heavy sigh.

" You do realize he's pissed at himself and not you? "

Not sure what to say I choose to say nothing, take a seat on the bed, and watch him curiously as he pulls back the equally tacky drapes for a peek outdoors.  
" Is he coming back?"

He drops the drape back in place and focuses his attention on the bottle in his hand rather than me as he speaks.  
" No! He's got a good couple hours of walking around kicking himself lined up. I imagine it'll be a long while before he comes back."

Not sure where the conversation is going, or how we'll get there, I opt for following his lead and take a long drink of the cool, but not quite as cold as it should be, beer, before asking to hear what I'm not sure I want to know?  
" Why on God's earth would he be so angry with himself that he'd have to walk out of here and roam the streets for hours on end instead of talking to me about it?"

Still sipping the beer, slower now, he doesn't answer me right away.  
Instead he reaches out to pull the other chair around apparently intending to use it as a makeshift footrest but not quite succeeding. I watch him shuffle it around trying to get it right until I eventually become frustrated waiting.  
" Linc! Answer me. "

" Because he shouldn't have taken you with him."

Frustrated to be back in the same rut I'd thought we'd left behind that morning I take a long drink, ponder the problem, and seeing no other options back track into all too familiar territory.  
" We have been through this, you know?."

Again I'm left waiting for a response. Watching, waiting and becoming increasingly annoyed with his choosing to ignore me in favor of busing himself with the suddenly all important task of separating label from bottle.  
" I decided to be there that night! I didn't leave him any choice."

My voice grows louder and more insistent with each word,  
" My father... who I am... the protection taking me offered all of you!" Until eventually my words pull him away.

He turns to look at me dropping the shredded bits of paper to the floor as he speaks. " Excuses! While there is some truth in all those things the real truth is we should have left you in the infirmary that night and he knows it."

He pulls his feet from the chair planting them hard to the floor as he swivels his seat around to face me.  
" The catch here is that's not the reason Michael's out there kicking himself. What's really eating him up,  
is less about making the wrong choice, and a whole hell of a lot more about his making it for selfish reasons."

I sit there quietly listening, hearing what he's telling me, and knowing there is no way he can know that the things I'd learned about his brother make it possible for me to truly understand what it is he's try to tell me.

" This is a big deal! Michael doesn't do things based on what he wants, Sara. But this time ... you... I'm convinced that night he decided to take you with us... he did it because he didn't want to lose you."

He looks around the room for a moment seemingly lost in thought, tips the bottle draining away the last before depositing it firmly on a nearby table.  
"I'm afraid for him. He was so willing to throw everything away to save me. "

He hesitates looking right at me, allowing me to see the fear and worry that's written all over his face.  
"I'm afraid when this over there won't be anything left to make Michael want to save himself."

He stands looking down slowly brushing the last scraps of shredded paper off his clothing. "He saved my life."

His task completed, he lifts his face to meet my eyes. " Until now, until you came into his life,  
I was lost for a way to make him want to save his own."

He looks away, surveying the room and massaging his chin in thought while searching for the right words.  
"Let him storm out. Let him roam the streets kicking himself for getting you into this, Sara. He can argue and stand his ground on any excuse he wants because the truth is you made him want something for himself..."

He smiles at me. " ... and that right there is the best shot I have at returning the favor and saving my little brother's life."

He starts toward the door but stops before he can pass me by.  
Not wanting his intentions to be misunderstood he gently and and tentatively reaches out placing his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. " He's got a good twelve to twenty four hours of brooding left in him so the chances you'll get him to talk when he does come back are slim to none. You should get some sleep."

I try to shake off the suggestion but he'll hear none of it. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for him. An eye on both of you."

His tone is firm and unwavering making it clear that the man before me, like his brother, will do what it takes to insure my safety. "I'm right next door if you need me. You rest!"

With a nod of exhausted agreement from me he turns and heads back through the door to his room.

" Lincoln! " He stops, a puzzled look on his face, standing halfway though the open door. Not sure how to express what it is I want to say I cross to him quickly, plant a soft kiss on the cheek of his bewildered face, and say what's in my heart: " Thank You." 


	4. Chapter 4

" We've all got our Demons "

Disclaimer: Prison Break and its characters are not mine. I'm just taking them out for a little spin.

I'd roamed nearly deserted streets, careful not to meet the eye of the few people who did pass my way, nearly two hours before it hit me that I'd left her alone.

I made a promise to protect her that night.  
Trusting my word she threw away everything she knew,  
put her life in my hands, only to have me just walk out on her the moment it all got too much for me to take.

Disgusted at how quickly and easily I've failed her I'm hit with a sudden and certain feeling that something had happened to her, to both of them, while I'd selfishly run out to indulge all the crap, the best professionals going, explain away as the unique mis-wiring in my head, that makes me the fucked up individual I am and was long before Fox River.

Fear pushing me hard I search my mind, retracing my steps,  
to find the quickest way back. My thoughts racing with the worst case scenarios of what I may find, I move as fast as my feet will carry me breaking into a full out run the last third of a mile.

As I reach for the door, heart pounding, the cool night air stinging my lungs making it near impossible to catch my breath, the curtain of the room next door slides back and I see his face in the window.

I can't read his expression in the faint light. I can only imagine it as disappointed.

I've spent a lifetime looking for pride in those eyes only to be sure, each time, no matter how he denies it, that more often than not what's truly there is not pride but disappointment at my failure to become the man I should have been.

A simple nod of acknowledgment is all I get before he allows the drape to slip back into place and disappears.  
It eases my mind that he's kept a watchful eye on Sara; that both of them are safe, no thanks to me.

Opening the door as gently as I'm able, finding her in bed,  
asleep, I step in and make my way across the room to his next door as quietly as possible.

Pushing the adjoining door open as little as possible I still manage to slip through looking back as the cool blue light from his television flows into the room and chases away the darkness. It's just enough for me to see her lying there, eyes closed, hands together tucked under her cheek, her long dark hair fanned over the pillows, sleeping, safe.

Unnerved by what he may say, I pull the door closed much harder than intended, I winch, fearing I've awoken her with the loud click of the latch.  
I stand there, hand on the doorknob, listening carefully for a sound in the room behind me.

When none comes I'm left with no other choice but to reluctantly turn my attention to my older, sure to be judgmental, brother waiting patiently for a reasonable explanation of my thoughtless behavior that I don't have.

I'm hesitant to meet his eye. I understand well, although we'd never got it quite right, that for all intensive purposes Lincoln has always been a father to me and no man, no matter age or situation, is ever eager to meet that man's gaze head on when he knows he's let him down.

Avoiding the issue by looking anywhere but at him, I can't help smiling at seeing a half empty beer bottle on the night stand and an ashtray piled high with discarded pistachio shells lying on the bed next to him.

Seeing him alive and free enough to enjoy cold beer and pistachios reminds me that in some ways, very important ways, I didn't fail him when he needed me.

The best I can do now, or anytime, is apologize when I need to.  
" Sorry. I shouldn't have walked out."

Standing there waiting for what he'll say, I'm prepared to take what I've got coming. Instead he says nothing, not bothering to even look up distracted, make that consumed, by the task of searching for the last few nuts that have managed to get themselves mingled with the empty shells.

" We've all got our demons. If your going to spend all your energy dealing with everyone else's, you'd damn well better be prepared for your own to come back and bite you in the ass with a vengeance once in a while, Michael. "

He finally looks up. " You don't owe me an apology."

Sitting there fidgeting with the nut in his hand, stubbornly refusing to open, he deems it useless and lobs it across the room, at me, hitting me square in the chest.  
" Keeping an eye out for her ... giving you the space you need to kick the shit out of yourself if you think that's what you deserve.  
whatever you need, I'm behind you Michael, because I'm the one that owes you."

He piles a few more nuts, cursing them for having 'no God damn opening ', atop the sizable mound of empty shells and slips off the bed... " You want to apologize to someone go in there and tell her your sorry"

" She's asleep. "

He crosses the room, shells falling from the overloaded ashtray to the floor behind him as he goes. " It's a fucking tragedy you know..."

He stops, just standing there. looking at me,  
waiting for me to respond.

Confident there are more than a dozen items in this mess that could easily be labeled 'a tragedy ', but having no idea which one he's he'd going for I'm left with no other option than opening myself up to whatever it is he's looking to dish out. " What's a tragedy? "

" You . You're the tragedy"  
A good looking kid like you. Been beating girls off with a stick since you were twelve years old and yet you still don't have a fucking clue how to handle a woman."

He stops, smirking at me, holding the mountain of shells above the trash can far higher than need be. " Oh she wants you to think she's sleeping, but I'd bet my ass she hasn't slept a wink, and is in there waiting for you talk to her..."

He smiles at me, the 'as smart as you think you are you've just been outsmarted by your big brother'; devilish grin I know well from our childhood and dumps the shells to the metal can below making an ungodly noise that would wake the dead.

" And if she was asleep ... she's not anymore "

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

" Good Therapy is Never Easy " ( Time to Go #5 )

Disclaimer: Prison Break and its characters are not mine. I'm just taking them out for a little spin.

After weighing the possible outcome of doing otherwise I make the choice to do what I can to keep up the illusion of being asleep.

Without a word he slips into the room removing shoes, jeans, getting down to the least amount of clothing he can get away with and climbs into bed.

Lying there with my back to him, both of us silent for the better part of twenty minutes, I begin to think, maybe, I've gotten away with it.

" You awake? " He leads off with a question allowing me to believe that the denial that I am actually awake is still a workable plan until.  
" Maybe I should rephrase that? I know you're awake."

I turn over to find him lying on his back, hands together, fingers locked behind his head staring up at the ceiling. " I was worried, Michael."

I wait for him to look at me, but instead, apparently losing interest with the ceiling tiles above, his eyes fall slowly shut as he speaks. " Sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that. "

I raise up, my chin resting on my hand, watching him, waiting for him to say something, anything, until the prolonged silence forces me to see that nothing else is coming and he fully intends to leave it at that.

"If you shut me out, I'm stuck in this alone," My voice is soft, pleading, and loaded with far more emotion that I'd intended to show. With that he opens his eyes. He doesn't look at me, but at least now I know I have his attention. "I can be strong, brave, together, but if you shut me out now I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Lying there in the silence growing more frustrated by the minute I push hard on his shoulder trying desperately to get his attention. " Damn it, Michael! Talk to me."

Finally he rolls to his side, facing me. The faint light shining through drapes that don't quite meet show the tension and worry written all over his face.  
"I promised to keep you safe, but there is no way I can you promise that."

" I've got to get him out of the country"  
His touch, reaching over to rest his hand possessively on my hip,  
comforts me more than he'll ever know. The feel of his hand, moving, gently stroking my hip through the layers of material makes me wonder if touching me is as soothing to him as it is to me.  
" ... and I can't get him to leave the country without his son. How the hell do I get LJ without getting all of us caught?"

Understanding him, and his frustration, more than he knows I do;  
I take a deep breath and give him the truth that I know he needs to hear. " You don't have all the answers, Michael. You can't fix everything by sheer will. I don't have the answers. Linc doesn't have them either."

I stop leaning over, making him look me straight in the eye to be sure he hears what I have to say.  
" And you Michael, have to stop beating yourself up for being as human and uncertain as the rest of us."

My attempt to help is greeted with a disgusted sigh as he rolls, defeated, away onto to his back. " Everyone's depending on me Sara. I can't let them down."

Realizing the need to ease the tension I move in closer, lifting his arm around my shoulders so I can rest my head on his chest.  
" We'll depend on each other. You have to allow yourself to depend on others sometimes, Michael."

Resisting less than a minute he moves in, left arm wrapped around my body, pulling me near, his hand tracing gentle circles over my back.  
" Don't start picking me apart. I've had enough therapy to last a lifetime. I appreciate the concern but..."

Sensing his discomfort and mounting resistance I do what I can to lighten the moment hoping to get things moving in the intended direction by pushing up the hem of his T shirt, letting my hand roam over his firm stomach until, eventually, I allow my fingers to dip down under the waist of his boxers. " No therapy. I promise. I was thinking more of a helpful exercise."

His voice, suddenly deep and husky, the unmistakable marker of arousal I've come to know so well, makes my heart race.  
" I walked about five miles tonight. How much more exercise do you think I need?

Before he realizes what's happening I climb on top of him, straddling his hips, leaning over, my hands on his shoulder pressing down holding him firmly in place.  
" I've got something psychological as much as physical in mind."

Wearing my usual sleep attire, one of his T's, panties, warm socks on my tragically cold feet and nothing more I move slowly, grinding my body on his, igniting the unmistakable light of passion in those riveting eyes of his.  
" I think anyone who knows you understands you could use some practice relinquishing control."

Reaching out, taking hold of my hips pulling me down hard against his body he starts a rhythm, matching my own, that threatens to wipe away my own attempts at control not to mention the entire point of our little exercise.

Working against my body's obvious desire to do otherwise I reach down slipping both hands through the waistband of the boxers to his hips beneath, take firm hold, and effectively still his motion.  
" Remember, you are not the one in control here, Michael.  
Its healthy, even therapeutic to..."

" ... relinquish control?" He adds, cutting me off, playfully doing exactly as he's told, lying still, suddenly willing, patient, and eager to follow my lead.

In the faint glow of red and pink neon filtering in through the partially open drapes I can see his smile. One of the beautiful, lighthearted, warm smiles of his I've only been fortunate enough to see a few times. A precious part of the man he once was, unparalleled in its ability to melt my heart.

Watching his face, his eyes never leaving mine, I grab hold of his shirt pulling it up and over his head in one quick motion that leaves my body fully on top of his. 

My head resting neatly on his shoulder, lips nuzzled perfectly against the taunt salty skin of his neck, I deem the position ideal for the continuation of the exercises and start a slow and deliberate exploration of his body by tracing the line of his strong jaw with the tip of my tongue.

Heading down, lips busy teasing and tasting the finely inked skin of his chest, hands lower yet, I look over to see his hand, still at his side, fidgeting and straining to remain still and under my control as directed.  
" Good therapy is never easy, Michael..."

I pull his right hand up to my to my face allowing him to touch me.  
" ... but, done properly, it can be so worth the effort."

Tentatively he runs the back of his warm hand gently along the curve of my cheek before taking the time to thoughtfully trace my lower lip with the tip of his index finger." I'm not going to argue that point."

With temptation more than I can stand, I part my lips and take the length of his finger, so readily available, into my mouth, eliciting a deep moan that makes it nearly impossible for him to utter a single word let alone full sentences. "Jesus! More therapy like this over the years and I'd be the most well adjusted man in Illinois by now." 

Letting him go, excruciatingly slowly, teasing him with my tongue as I go, just to be sure he understands who is in charge I take hold of his hand and place tiny kisses on the tip of each finger punctuating my words, as I speak.  
" You just never had the right doctor before. " 


	6. Chapter 6

"Here to help"

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

The days, moving slowly and cautiously west, quickly turn into two exhausting weeks of living on the run.

We should have been out of the country a long time ago.

But we're not.

We're nowhere near Mexico.

We started today sitting in the middle of Western Colorado basically spinning our wheels unable to move forward.

In the beginning we found ourselves stopped, lying low for days at a time when things got to hot to be on the move, but that's rarely the case anymore. Right now what grinds our progress to a halt most often is the fact that as the border draws near I've yet to find way to get LJ to Linc insuring he'll be willing to go when the time comes.

Behind the wheel, touring the back roads of the most remote part of the state known to man, my own physical and mental exhaustion wearing me down, I look over to find both of them have fallen asleep. 

As the empty and open road winds down into what from all signs appears to be a low rent, working mans, sort of resort town; I make the decision for all of us to find a safe place we can stop, rest, and put our heads together and find a way to get his son.

Thoroughly tired of the lengthy trail of cheap, sleazy motels with far too much visibility and too little peace of mind, I veer off the main roads to a remote area dotted with tiny cabins and cottages in search of the best available spot I can find.

In the back of my mind I know I should wake them instead of making the decision unilaterally, but knowing that both of them, all of us really, are too weary to put up a fight I find the right place, break the window to gain entry, committing yet another crime, without saying a word.

The breaking of the glass effectively wakes both and while they take the time and energy to properly chastise me for the offense; the warm, clean, well secluded digs quickly smoothes the waves of dissent and we all settle in for a much needed rest.

Fighting sleep, basically doing it with one eye open at all times,  
since the day I arrived at Fox River I was surprised to find myself feeling comfortable enough to be drifting easily off to sleep for a change.

Hearing him snoring like a buzzsaw in the room next door with her warm body pressed against me in the dark I felt sure I was on the verge of the first decent night sleep I'd had in months until...

Lying in the dark with only the faintest bit of moonlight filtering through the shuttered window I can see her lying on her side, turned away from me with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other draped over her sleeping head making it perfectly clear that the hand I feel on my leg, slowly, purposefully, sliding upward can't possibly belong to either one of them.

The urge to leap off the bed is quickly overridden by the realization that the safety of Linc and Sara, left undisturbed by the intruder thus far, is all that matters.

Moving as little as possible, as not to disturb her, I reach down, grab firm hold of the hand which had been distracted with pushing the bedding aside and wandering up the inside of my right thigh, and jerk it hard forcing him to look up at me.

Hair wild, unkept, and his beard grown full, changes his appearance a bit; but even in the dim light, I can see that crooked smile and wag of the eyebrow, making the man I see kneeling next to the bed unmistakable as T- Bag.

Before I can move or say a word he looks at her, his eyes on the bare skin of her shoulder peeking out from under the blankets making me fear for her safety, puts a finger to his lips, and 'Sssssh's' me.

Letting go, shoving his hand away with all the force I can manage while not waking her, he stands slowly, an exaggerated pout on his face at being rebuffed, and nods in the direction of the door as he mouths the words, 'We need to talk.'

I lie there frozen for an instant.

Each time, afterward, we've dressed right away in case the need to move should suddenly arise, but tonight, feeling more comfortable and at ease than we'd ever been, neither of us bothered, leaving me with the unpleasent experience of climbing out of the bed, naked, in front of him, of all people.

I stand and as expected, with a disgusting smirk on his face, he takes the time to thoroughly look me over before stepping back, allowing me to grab my jeans from the floor, and heading toward the door.

Walking through the bedroom door, closed gently but tight behind, leaves us standing in the middle of the cramped living space of the cottage. The close quarters force me to control the rage I feel and speak in hushed tones for fear of waking either one of them. " What the fuck are you doing here?"

As I take my eyes off him, only a moment to slip into my pants, he flips on the lamp on an end table and starts in just like I knew he would. " Whoa! What's your hurry there Scofield. Lets us shine a little light on this here situation. See what's what if you know what I mean. " 

Ignoring him I hoist the rough denim up over my bare hips.  
" What are you doing here, T-Bag?"

He plops himself down on the sofa near the lamp watching me,  
absent-mindedly licking his lips " This conversation would have been a lot more pleasant without the jeans... Didn't think to grab a shirt? I guess, at very least, we get to do this bare-chested."

Sickened by the way he looks at me I'm grateful to have his eyes off my body when he looks up, turning his attention to meeting my eye. "Sorry, I got a little distracted. You do have that effect on me. You want to know what I'm doing here?"

Not in the mood to play his games I nod my response and wait less than patiently for a response. " Doing? Well ... lets see ... most recently I was busy hiding in the closet, in there, thoroughly enjoying watching you do the Doc."

" Now that was something to see"  
He bites at his lip and gives me a little fake shiver, for effect, obviously pleased with himself. " Oh yessss! I knew you would be, but seeing is believing, and ' pretty', you are something special!" 

The way he looks at me shifting in his seat and grabbing at himself to adjust an obvious erection makes my stomach churn. " You know, as a rule, I'm a 'better to give than receive' sort of man but watching you fuck her I'm thinking sometimes greed is good and getting, where you're concerned, could be a mighty sweet thing."

He looks over at the closed door and then back to me. " Hostage my ass!  
Doing what you did, breaking out, takes guts, no question, but snagging yourself a little bedtime playmate on the way over the wall, now that, was a bold move, my friend."

With that he gets up, crossing the distance between us, standing so close I can feel his hot breath against my neck, and start in tracing the lines on my chest with his finger. " I wonder what that big old powerful daddy of hers, out there searching for his poor 'abducted' little girl, would think if he knew she went willingly for the chance to wrap her legs around a dirty con like you?"

Repulsed by his touch I push his hand away only to have him make it clear I'll be taking whatever he's dishing out by opening his jacket just enough for me to see the gun tucked in the waist of his pants. " What kind of danger do you think he'd think she was in if he could see her lying in that bed, under you, squirming, whimpering, and begging for all you got?"

Knowing, he, and his gun, have me pinned he runs his finger along my jaw resting it under my chin, pushing upward, forcing me to look him in the face. "Something tells me he'd forget all about this nasty escape business and have you shot between the eyes just for laying a hand on his daughter."

Standing there face to face, the bastards hands on me, wondering but trying not to think about what he intends to do to me he grabs hold of my face and shoves me backward. " Wake up that brother of yours."

Confused as to why, but relieved to be away from him, I stand there watching as he turns away, crosses to the kitchen, opens the fridge, pulls out a drink, popping the cap and tossing it with a loud clang in the sink, as he speaks.  
" You boys got yourselves a problem. Lucky for you, T Bag is here to help..." 


	7. Chapter 7

"Anything you Ask" ( Time to Go #7 )

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

" Wake Up! " Exhausted and in a much deeper sleep that I'd seen in months, his voice alone doesn't do the trick and he's forced into shaking me by the shoulder to wake me. " Damn it, Linc, wake up! We've got a problem."

The fog begins to clear and the tension and worry I hear in his voice hits me like a slap in the face, waking me all at once to the point I sit, bolt upright, swinging my legs to floor, forcing him to take a stumbling step back to keep from been knocked over. " What? They've found us?"

Searching the floor for my pants, haphazardly, while waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark therefore enabling me to see them, and him for that matter I mumble into the darkness, " We gotta get out here?"

A shake of the head and a few blinks clears my vision enough to see him standing there, half dressed, barefoot, dragging my clothes off the floor and tossing them onto the bed as he speaks. " Not they, he! He found us. The only place were going, is out there, to hear what he has to say. "

Wondering who 'he' is, and what the hell is going on I step into my pants hoisting them up as I pull myself off the bed and head toward the door.

" Wait." The door in my hand, standing partially open, light filtering into the room I turn around to see his face, more annoyed than alarmed. He tosses my shirt at me explaining with a tone reeking of disgust " Trust me; you'll want to be fully clothed for this conversation"  
Without another word he pushes past me and into the room beyond.

Tugging my shirt over my head I follow close behind. The sight of him, smug, standing there grinning, just over Michael's shoulder shocks the hell out of me to the point I, without thinking, launch myself across the room, " Son of a Bitch!"

I'm startled by the strength I never imagined he had as I get no more than a couple steps momentum forward before I'm stopped in my tracks, by my younger, smaller, brothers determined hands planted firmly against my chest. "Don't! "

While I have no doubt I could easily overpower him if I tried it's the look on his face, a look I can't quite place that persuades me to hold back. " Take it easy. He has a gun."

He leans in closer and the look in his eyes, the first real glimpse of fear I've seen in him in a long time, persuades me to keep my cool and hear him out. " For God's sake, please, keep your voice down."

He glances over the closed bedroom door and back to me. " You'll wake her and I don't want him anywhere near her."

" Its like I told you, Pretty... " The way he walks over, smirking and laying his hands on Michael as his talks makes the hair in the back of my neck stand on end. "...I got no intention of laying a hand on her." Watching him, the boldness of his way with Michael makes me wonder how long he's been here and what he'd managed to get his hands on while I slept.

" I'm not going to touch her." My anxiety, along with the urge to reach over and snap his neck, grows as I stand there watching helplessly as he runs his filthy hands over my brothers bare skin while he speaks. "Not really my type, if you know what I mean. But I gotta wonder, what the hell, I'm gonna come right out and ask, how often does he give you a go at her?"

He leaves Michael physically and mentally behind taking a step in my direction searching for the right buttons to provoke me into doing something both of us, know I can't afford to do. " Seems like such a dedicated, self sacrificing brother, willing to throw away everything to save your sorry ass, would be more than willing to share a piece now and then?"

He looks me over, head to toe, leering, something he never had the the balls to do without a gun in his hand. " Or maybe she doesn't do it for you either. Tell me, Burrows, how far does this brotherly love you boys got going extend?" He reaches out, believing, until I clamp down on his wrist with force threatening to break it, that I'd actually allow him to lay a hand on me. " Maybe you don't give a damn about screwing the good doctor because all you got on your mind is getting a piece of that pretty, pretty, little brother of yours over there."

I let go of his hand shoving him away hard enough to send him stumbling backward, nearly falling, until he catches his balance by landing hard against Michael's chest. Defiant, he stands, righting himself, straightening his clothing and smoothing his hair. " Not that I blame you. But you see I just can't help wondering how long a man has to be behind bars..."

He steps close, right in my face, wagging his eyebrows and gnawing is lower lip for effect. " How warped he has to become to spend his nights dreaming of sticking it to his own flesh and blood."

Just when I think I can't take anymore, Michael, with a calm that scares me more than any gun, reaches out and places a gentle almost reassuring had on his shoulder, pleading with a smooth, voice that masks his hatred, carefully hidden from the eyes of the man, in front of him, but easy for me to see burning his eyes. " Enough! You said you were here to help."

Keeping his contact, his control, he shrugs the smaller man off, turning to face him, his long lean build making the lesser man look weak and frail by comparison. " This isn't helping anyone T-bag. You said you wanted to talk. I woke him, we're both standing here waiting, say what you came to say."

He stands silently watching him, a look of twisted admiration on his face. I hate seeing it even if I know inside Michael is the only hope we have of keeping this man in check. " Such a cool customer. Pretty, and oh sooooo smart. You two aren't cut from the same cloth, are you now? Only so much to go around leaving you stuck with the short end of the smart stick in this family, eh, Burrows."

He stops, standing still, in place, stroking his beard in thought as if he's taking his time, carefully choosing the right words. "Sorry, I got a little off track there but you know speaking of a man's flesh and blood, family, genes, does go a long way toward getting us back in ballpark. You see, I've stuck nice and close to you two from the start. Figured you boys weren't gonna get yourselves caught and staying in your shadow was the best way to avoid getting snagged myself"

He takes a step in my direction meeting my eye with only the occasional lusty glance at Michael, over his shoulder, as he speaks. " You should have been long gone by now. Basking in the sun on a sandy beach down south. I couldn't imagine what was keeping you and while it took me a few days to work my way close enough to hear what it was I needed to hear...

I did hear...

I do see your problem...

And I'm here to solve it, boys."

Listening, having a vague idea where he's going, I don't question the wisdom of his taking a few steps backward, slipping behind Michael, increasing the distance between us and protecting himself from the wrath he clearly believes his brand of 'help' is going to provoke in me.

" I'm gonna go get your boy."

The words are still hanging off the tip of his tongue as I lunge at him. " Keep your filthy fucking hands off my son!"

His reflexes prove quicker than my own as he stops me dead in my tracks by pulling the gun from his waist, cocking it, and placing it, without hesitation, firmly against my brother's temple. " I wasn't planning on hurting the boy but if you do something rash forcing me to shoot my prize I'll kill all three of you right now, go after the boy anyway, and show him a world of pleasure and pain you can't begin to imagine, all the while reminding him his 'daddy made me do it', till I get so bored I can't think of anything more interesting to do with the kid than blow his fucking brains out while be begs for his life."

Terrified I look at Michael, gun to his head, eyes closed tight, chest heaving, waiting for the shot. " I won't touch a hair on the boys head, Burrows. Treat him better than I would my own. I'll deliver him to your waiting hands as long as..."

My head spinning, horrified at the thought of this man anywhere near LJ, I miss the point, the offer, entirely, until stunned by what I see I'm forced to watch as he runs his hand teasing over his stomach, dipping down, through the waist of his pants, possessively pulling Michael against him. " As long as ..."

Searching for a way, any way, to save them both I feel my heart rise up in my throat as I watch Michael's eyes, the gun still trained on his temple, flutter slowly open, look briefly but compassionately in my direction then go cold, empty, and distant with surrender right before my eyes. " Get the boy to him safely, unharmed, and I'll do anything you ask." 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

Last time: ( #7 ) T bag offers to deliver LJ safely to Lincoln in exchange for Michael.

" Six Days from Today "

He's there, in the half darkness filling the room behind me, so quiet, not a single word from his lips, even so without turning I feel him there, feel his eyes on us watching every move I make as I stand at the open door hashing out the details of what needs to be done with the last person on earth I'd ever imagined entrusting my son to.

Our negotiations are completed with an eerie assurance that he ' won't lay a hand on the boy' as long as I make sure Michael, he tosses a lewd gesture in Michael's direction a nasty accompaniment to the guarantee making his point very clear, holds up our end of the deal.

Then without another word he turns and leaves.

With the click of the door's latch I hear him exhale hard, as if he'd hadn't drawn breath since the moment he first layed eyes on the man.

Standing there with my back to him, thinking, of the man the man I've just sent away, of the one behind me, my brother, my family, and of my only child caught between the two; I can't help the feeling of complete helplessness that begins spreading through my entire body.

He takes a deep breath, waiting, considering, preparing to say something.

I've never known what it is, but there's something in him, almost psychic, that enables him to read me.

Something in the way he pays attention to posture, body language, whatever it is that that makes it possible for him to sort out the truth, easily filtering it through all the layers hiding what's real, whatever it is that makes him understand, without a word, exactly what needs to be said... " He won't hurt him."

My back still to him, stomach churning from all that has just been set in motion, I let down my guard and ask him, this one time, for the comfort and reassurance I spent our childhood trying to give him.  
" Tell me you're right, Michael? "

So calm. His voice is firm, strong, seemingly confident as he whispers. " I am. "

I wait a moment, wishing it were so, wondering if he believes what he's saying before turning to see his face, looking into those eyes for a measure of comfort, for any assurance, that he truly believes what he says.  
Knowing my fears well and sensing the need to believe he meets my eye, his confident gaze unwavering as he speaks. " I can't tell you how I know but I can tell he means what he says, Linc."

At a loss for clues as to if he really is all that confident or just saying what needs to be said to keep me calm. I'm left with little choice but to accept his words," He won't lay a hand on LJ. ", and let I it go.

Clinging to what I can, swiftly switching gears because I can't allow my mind to linger on LJ with T Bag for too long, I deal with what is right in front of me. " And what about you, Michael?"

Harboring little or no hope of reaching him now that I've headed into territory I know he has no intention of discussing I cross the room, watching him carefully every step of the way as if he may bolt rather than allow me to the broach this particular subject, and challenge him by refusing to back down " I asked you a question. What about you?"

As I close the distance, standing near, almost hovering, he does his best to ignore me, the subject, by turning away and busing himself with rounding up the ruffled pillows on either end of the couch and piling them atop one another to one end.

" Michael! Answer me?"

He turns to face me with anger and frustration bubbling just under the surface, at being cornered, . " I can handle him! "

With that he turns away again grabbing hold of the afghan draped over the back of the couch, shaking it open as he plops himself down, his head resting on the pillows, long legs dangling over one end covering himself defensively while rolling away.

He tries to sound certain tries to convince me nothing further need be said on the subject but something inside me knows its more likely he's picking and choosing his words carefully, hoping to set my mind at ease and hide the fact that what he's really saying is; he can, and will, take whatever T Bag has planned for him to save my son.

" Tell me you didn't mean what you said." I stand over him waiting and when no reaction is to be had I reach down shoving his shoulder hard causing his body to rock forward pushing his face into the back of the far too small for his stature sofa " You do realize there are other ways? I won't allow you to trade yourself to that maniac, Michael."

He turns his head to me, the angry tone of his words taking me back to a childhood of watching him defiantly refusing to do what I asked any time I dared to push him with my superior age and physical strength.  
" I've got this. You worry about getting yourself and LJ out of the country and leave T Bag to me."

He looks me dead in the eye, staring me down, doing his all he can to make it clear this particular conversation is at an end by reaching over, switching off the light on table next to him and hiding himself away in what quickly becomes near total darkness as he mumbles what he believes are the final words on the subject. "I'll do what I have to do."

Knowing he expects me to take that and walk, but being disinclined to do what he thinks I should, when I know he's trying to shut me out,  
I move away, take a seat, and wait for the inevitable.

The waiting doesn't take long.

With the sound of my taking a seat, settling comfortably into the chair across from his impromptu bed, his seeing what he's up against, he valiantly continues his argument. " Everything I've done..." He looks up studing the ceiling above to avoid having to look me in the eye. "We haven't come this far to fail now."

Not sure what I can say I opt for saying nothing and lean back in my chair propping my feet on the coffee table between us.

Realizing that as much as he may hope otherwise, I have no intention letting it go, he turns over watching me, a showdown playing out quietly without a single word.

Sitting there together in the dark feeling him pull away, into himself, I can't help wondering who he might have been without the people he loves.

Ironic that for most people imagining a life without the ones we love is painful.

A bad thing.

But Michael's not like other people.

For Michael, caring brings pain, scars, and irreparable damage to the man he should have been.

Most people are better for loving.

Michael, far too often, is broken by it.

He has no way of knowing what's running though my mind, so, obviously growing tired of the strained uncomfortable silence hanging between us, he speaks up and asks for the only thing he thinks he needs to hear.  
"What's the plan?"

Worrying, feeling bad, and wishing there was a way his life could have stayed separate from my own, I fail to notice him move to sit up and face me.

When I do realize he's there, I look to him and see compassion dulling the anger in his eyes as he tells me... ' Try not to worry. LJ is going to be okay.' The words make me feel like I've taken a hit to stomach, every ounce of air knocked from my lungs, utterly shocked at the notion that he assumes my drifting away is all about me an my own, without a single thought of what will happen to him.

I should talk to him.

Tell him I do worry about him.

Tell him there's nothing I wouldn't do to take his place.

But I don't. I sit there listening quietly as he goes about fixing everyone and everything, except himself, just like he's always done. " T Bag's right. Everyone is waiting for you or I to try and get to LJ. We wouldn't get within a 100ft of him without getting caught and you know it. No one is expecting him. He'll get to him and he'll bring him to you. I promise."

With that we are left in the dark, sitting there, facing one another,  
both of us understanding in our own way, for completely different reasons, that all the things that go without saying outweigh anything we could say to one another right now.

With a heavy sigh, both of us clearly thinking the same thing, he tells me exactly what I was verge of suggesting to him.  
" You should try to get some sleep."

Knowing how unlikely sleep is but understanding there is nothing more to be done at the moment and his plea is possibly more about being left alone and less about either of us getting any rest, I stand and start for the bedroom.

Listening for his footsteps behind, fully expecting him to do the same, the quiet and lack of movement in the room pushes me to turn just in time to see him shift his body down, stretching out on the sofa, clearly intending to say where he is.

" Hey! You should do the same you know?"

He looks to the closed door, her door, across the room and then back to me. " I will. But here, okay."

Still lying down he leans up a bit bracing his chin on his hand to look me in the eye. " I don't want her to know anything about this."

He maintains eye contact, firm, stern, and even in the dim light I can see very clearly how serious is he is about what he saying.  
" I mean it. There's nothing I won't do for you or LJ. I think you know that.  
Now, I need you to do this one thing for me."

While I can see there is no way he should or can keep this from her I also see no good in arguing the point with him at the moment either.  
With that, further discussion on the subject clearly not an option,  
he rolls over leaving his back to me as he tells me, in no uncertain terms. " I'll handle her!"

Seeing that we're getting nowhere, clearly done for the night, I head off to my room, stopping only a second in the door to leave him with the answer to the question he'd asked.  
" The plan? We'll talk about it, later, when you're ready to listen. For now... Vegas six days from today." 


	9. Chapter 9

" Tell Me You Have a Plan?" ( Time to Go # 9)

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

He slipped out, again.

For the last three nights in a row he's waited until he thought I was asleep and then slipped out of the room to take up residence on the sofa.

Until tonight I was willing to give him the space he seemed to need, but his distance over the last couple days paired with the fact that he's hardly said ten words to his own brother, and even less to me, leads me to believe that tonight I have to try, make an attempt, to go out there and get him to talk to me.

No matter how quiet I tried to be, the element of surprise is completely lost with the soft squeak of the bedroom door hinge surprising him to the point he sits up quickly, his head snapping around to face me alarmed and on guard.

As soon as he sees me he does his best to hide the tension, tension I can easily see written all over his face even in the faint bit of moonlight that barely illuminates room, with a quick 'hey' and a soft smile.

I return the greeting, hardly meaning it myself, finding the pleasantries downright silly at time when it's clear to me that neither one of us is half as comfortable with one another at the moment as we are trying appear, and move in to stand next to him.

"Sit up, Michael." He looks up, watching me. For a moment, he's just sitting there, not moving,  
staring at me flatly in the eye making me begin to think he intends to shut me out before I even get started; until without a word he does exactly as asked and sits up.

As soon as he moves I snatch the pillow up from where his head had been, replace it with myself, sitting down quickly, and put the pillow on my lap. " Okay, you can lay back down now."

He gives me a frown in protest pointing out that there is 'hardly enough room or one...' to which I pat the pillow and point out to him that since his choices are at pretty limited at the moment perhaps its best to... " Lie back down. You give me a few minutes and I'll give you your space back."

With a defeated sigh he lies down turning to his side, facing away from me, his head resting lightly on the pillow in my lap. " Sorry I woke you. I couldn't get to sleep tonight."

While I realize I don't know the man half as well as I'd like to, I do know that reaching him at all right now is likely to prove next to impossible.

Knowing I have to try I lay my hand gently on his shoulder hoping the physical contact, the kind he'd been dodging for days, will eventually ease the tension and help him to open up.  
" I know. And last night... And the night before that... As far as I can see you've hardly slept in days, Michael."

He pulls away a bit under my hand but I maintain the contact refusing to allow him to slip away that easily. " With all the stress, everything we've been through it stands to reason that you, all of us, should have difficultly sleeping."

" Is that a professional opinion, Doc?"

" It is. Sleeplessness, in this situation, would be a normal reaction." Relieved, apparently believing my inquiry into his recent sleep habits is to make up the bulk of what I want to say, he relaxes under my touch enabling me to grow bolder, working carefully to put him as at ease as possible by moving my hand up, over his shoulder, across his neck, stiff with tension, before running my hand, massaging gently, over his head " Your hair is really starting to grow in. It's..."

Moving my fingertip though his hair working them slowly toward the base of his neck he reaches up, scrubbing his hand over his scalp harshly before capturing my hand in his and pulling it down to rest, cupped in his, firmly against his chest.  
" Its' pretty bad is what it is."

I can't help smiling knowing, from his way, that the Michael I know is still in there somewhere. "That's a little harsh. I was leaning more toward potentially unruly."

His laughter is soft as he speaks," you're far too generous" eases the tension and lightens the mood to the point he moves his body back, the small bit he'd tried to move away, resting himself fully against me and drawing my hand in tight against his body. " I've never been able to grow facial hair like Linc can, so I guess as long as I keep a long sleeve shirt on, the hair actually makes me a little less recognizable."

For a while I sit there without saying a word, hesitant now that I managed to get him to relax, to say what I need to say, needing, for my own piece of mind, to enjoy the comfort of him near and at ease before asking and watching him slip away with my words.  
" Tell me you have a plan, Michael?"

He tenses just a little fearing the worst. " A plan for what?"

I tighten my grip on his hand, knowing his impulse to pull away will be strong, and hoping for a way to keep him from doing just that.  
"Tell me once LJ is safe you have a plan to get away from him, Michael?"

Instead of pulling away he rolls onto his back to face me.

At some point clouds have begun rolling in periodically overtaking the moonlight filtering in through the window leaving me waiting there, in the dark for minutes that feel like an eternity until the soft light returns enabling me to see his face.  
His eyes are wide, fixed on mine. " He told you! "

He looks so angry that I find myself wishing for more clouds to come and bring back the darkness. " No one told me anything, Michael. I heard you leaving the room. I was at the door the whole time. You were quiet but it's a small place in the middle of a 'silent' nowhere and I heard every word for myself."

The anger on his face fades into a look I can't place as his eyes slowly drift shut.

For a moment I consider telling him that, more then hearing, I'd opened my eyes in time to see them, Michael in a frighteningly vulnerable position, leaving the room together. Still fearing the worse, not wanting to make things any harder I ask the least I can and still get answers leaving what he's willing to tell me entirely up to him. " Did he hurt you? "

Keeping his eyes closed he swallows hard before speaking, in little more than a whisper, leading me to believe that perhaps there is more to what happened than he's willing to say while putting to rest what I feared most.  
" No ... he didn't."

The clouds roll in again and with the soft rumble of thunder outside the light is gone for good. " What are you going to do, Michael?"

Not realizing I had done it he takes advantage of my loosened grip on his hand by switching roles and moving his hand over, to cover mine, pressing it down against his chest. " I don't know yet. He's just a kid, Sara. Once he's safe I'll deal with T-Bag the best I can."

Understanding from his exhausted deep breath, heavy hearted exhale, and the feel of his heart pounding in his chest under my hand, that what he says is the truth, for now. All he knows and all he has to offer for reassurance. I raise up in my seat just enough to disturb him, to urge him to move. " I understand. There's nothing you can do right now except get some rest. I'm smaller I'll stay here and you take the bed, tonight. You need to rest, Michael"

He moves his body to sit, then stand, holding onto my hand as he goes pulling me to my feet along with him. "Yeah, alright. I know you're right."

Using my hand in his, reeling me in, he wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling me near, right against him as he stands.  
" I'll go. I won't lie, I do need it. But only if you come with me."

He leans back just a little brushing his lips gently over my forehead urging me to tilt my head upward and look into his eyes. "As much as I need sleep, right now, I need you more." 


	10. Chapter 10

" That's Just Wrong ( Time to Go #10 )

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

Not able to get there myself I'm comforted by the regular rhythm of his breathing, lying next to me and clearly sound asleep, I feel confident of not waking him when I slip out of the room to get a cool drink.

As I open the door slowly, having quickly learned to always be on guard, I stop at mere inches when I catch a glimpse of light in the room beyond.

Understanding more with each passing day the danger that can be around any corner and certain the room was completely dark when we went into the bedroom just over an hour ago. I freeze where I stand.

" Just me."

His voice is soft but rough as if, even though I've never see him with one,  
he had been sitting there for hours smoking cigarettes one after the other in worry until his throat was raw. " It's okay, Sara, it's just me."

I move through the door quickly, looking back to be sure the squeaky hinge hasn't disturbed Michael to see him laying there shirtless on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows, as I pull the door closed gently behind me.

He's sitting across the room at the kitchen table, a small light mounted under the cabinets, fills the tiny room with enough light for me to see.  
Instead of chain smoking this man, who never stops surprising me,  
has been busy with the much more mundane and oddly charming task of bingeing on double stuf Oreos and milk.

As I near the table he gets up moving to the small wire dish-drainer perched on the edge of the tiny steel sink and searches the contents until he pulls out a second mug holding it out and tipping it temptingly in my direction. " I couldn't sleep... Join me?"

I take the mug, pouring it half full from the carton left sitting on the table next to the open package of cookies, and take a seat across from him.  
" I wondered when someone was gonna open those."

" Just saving them for the right time." He takes a handful, a good six or eight in his ample hand, deposits them next to his cup and pushes the rest of the package, easily three quarters empty, making it clear he'd been at this for awhile,  
across the table. " Cures what ails ya. The fridge isn't very cold, milk's kinda warm, but its does the trick just the same."

" Some swear by warm milk as a means to ending sleepless nights."

I don't think anything of it as I say it, understanding that all three of us are clearly having our own difficulties with sleep, but as I say it his watching me, amused, with raised eyebrows and a devilish smirk on his face makes me thinks I've said something I shouldn't have.  
" What? Did I say something wrong?"

He stares at me a moment tilting his head to the left a bit while massaging the back of his neck in thought. " Warm milk can help but there's only one sure fire way I can think of to be certain a grown man will sleep like a baby..."

He looks up, over to me, the smirk on his face becoming a wide amused grin made complete by his having to bite down on his lower lip to keep from laughing.  
" I take it he's sound asleep, tonight?"

Thankful for the faint light hiding the blush of embarrassment on my cheeks I look down not able to meet his eye and mumble my response. " He was sleeping when I left him."

" I'll bet ... from what I heard he'll probably be asleep a couple days"  
With that he gives up on holding back and begins laughing quietly but heartily at my expense.

While my first thought is to crawl under the table, the sound of his laughter, part of that rough charm of his that I've come to find comforting, I instead look up and meet his eye. " Are you enjoying this?"

The laughter stops but his smile doesn't fade. " Sorry, I know I shouldn't be teasing you..."

He stops talking looking down at the mug, the disappointed frown on his face making him look more like a boy that a hardened criminal, as the cookie between his fingers left soaking just a little too long breaks away and drifts to the bottom of the clear cup. " It shouldn't be like this. I SHOULD be enjoying this ... be teasing him mercilessly ever opportunity I get and enjoying every minute of it. "

With the sunken Oreo long forgotten he takes another from the stack, looking me in the eye, his expression serious and sad, as he speaks. " Michael means the world to me. You clearly mean a lot to him. I know the timing is crap but you're good for him so, yeah, I guess I am enjoying this."

The weight of his words washes away the lighthearted air between the two of us plunging us both into an uncomfortable silence.

I feel like I should say something.

There are so many things I could say.

Things I want to say.

But in the end I say nothing.

I try to tell myself 'how can I say to him, something I haven't even admitted to Michael...'

'...or to myself.'

But it's all just an excuse.

The truth is, that saying it out loud, acknowledging how I feel, knowing I may lose him for good at any moment takes more strength than I have.

I try to look away but the look in his eyes captures my attention and holds me.

Expecting to see disappointment on his face at what I can't say, or worse his believing I don't feel in the first place, all I see is kindness and understanding as he changes the subject with ease allowing me off this particular hook. " He told you what happened?"

Grateful for the easy out but apprehensive about launching into my second confession of the night making comfort food increasingly appealing, I reach out dragging the nearly empty package to me by the torn wrapper.  
" He didn't have to tell me. I was awake, behind the door. I heard it all for myself"

Relieved to have the truth of what happened that night out in the open, for all of us. I sit silently watching him, wondering what he must think, twisting the cookie in my hand, not entirely realizing I'm doing it, to get at the cream filling hidden inside.

" You knew what happened all along... You told him you knew"  
I nod my response unwilling to speak, feeling uncomfortable and on edge seeing the odd look on his face. Watching me intently he shakes his head as speaks. " That's just wrong, Sara."

Looking at his face, feeling guilty for keeping quiet and surprised to find at some point along the way this man, what he thinks of me, has become almost as important to me as Michael. " I know. I should have said something sooner but..."

Continuing to shake his head, he cuts me off.  
" No! I'm glad you heard. I'd rather he not relive that night. I would have told you myself, but he wouldn't allow it... "

He smiles as he picks up the last cookie from the now fully depleted stack next to his mug holding out for me to see, smiling, before dipping it into the milk. " I meant the way you're eating that cookie is ' just wrong!'.

Sitting there watching him, neither one of us saying a word, my mind searching for a way to ask him what will happen, to hear him promise everything will be okay, I feel tears of worry and fear welling up in my eyes to the point I have to look away.

Realizing I can't ask him for something he needs to hear as much if not more than I do - something he can't possibly promise to me or himself, I look up to see much the same look, save the tears, written all over his broad face. " We need be on the road tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

He smiles at me as he lifts the mug in the air, offering up a silent toast, draining away the remaining milk, cookie and all, before planting it firmly on the table with a satisfied and oddly confident grin. " I want to make damn sure we are where we need to be ahead time. Stay ahead of him. Be ready for him..."

He stands up snatching the mug off the table while pushing the chair in with his hip. " We all need our sleep, tonight."

He walks slowly around the table stopping to pick up my cup, holding both easily in the palm of one hand. " You should get some rest."

As he turns to leave, heading toward the sink, he stops, still facing away, and reaches back placing his strong hand on my shoulder squeezing gently and reassuringly as he speaks. " We're going to get them both back ... safely"

TBC... 


	11. Chapter 11

Easier if He's Angry Time to go ( chapter # 11)

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

Thankfully, it didn't take the full six days.

Daddy may not be the brightest bulb in the marquee but apparently he can write a convincing letter when he needs to.

I didn't read the damn thing... I didn't really care. What he said was none of my Damn business as long as it did the trick. Which it did!

As soon as Sonny boy and that whiny ass lawyer read what ever it was he had to say the kid came along without any of them putting up a fight.

I've kept my hands off the boy.

It's been hard as hell!

So young, pretty and scared. It's hard for a man like me to let something that tempting slip away without a little taste but I've done it. I kept my hands to myself and my eye on the prize because the payment for delivering the boy to his old man is far too precious to lose for a quick cheap thrill.

Settled in Vegas, eight hours now, still another day left before they are scheduled to arrive, finding myself growing eager and tired of waiting I make the call a day early just to see.

The idea was to make sure they were on the road. Up the anticipation! Convinced I'll not reach them, I'm pleasantly shocked when Burrows answers the phone I gave him almost immediately.

While his insistence that he speak to the boy pisses me off in a big fucking hurry hearing the Pretty's voice in the background, knowing he's on his way, takes the edge off enough for me to pass the phone to the kid so he can tell them I've kept up my end of the deal.

With a whole lot of 'yes' ... 'no', and 'I'm okay's', all I'm getting of the conversation, proving boring as hell I snatch back the phone and lay it all out.

Irritated at the thought of waiting for what I want, now, while forced to give them details, where to go, which hotel, how I'll contact them for the exchange tomorrow I feel a stirring of hard, fast, and real excitement begin to grow in the pit of stomach the instant I hear him say that the wait is all but over and they are no more than an hour outside of town at that very moment.

The thrill of knowing they'll soon arrive proving more than I handle, unable to sit idle waiting for the call, I tie and gag the kid, keeping him safely tucked away, and head downstairs to watch and wait.

While he did a lot of pissing and moaning on the phone about how difficult it's going to be to get into the hotel without getting caught I can see, the instant I catch sight of her walking through the door, it wasn't all that difficult and they'd managed to find a way somewhere along the line.

The minutes spent waiting, lurking in the shadows, pay off and I find myself in the perfect position to hear every word she says as she strolls up to registration just around the corner from where I stand.

Working my way just a bit little closer I'm able to hear the whole song and dance, no names.. cash only ... afraid of an abusive husband, she gives the sympathetic girl standing behind the counter.

The girl, of course, buys it and while I know it's a load of horse shit I'd have to say that with one good look at her face, worn down, exhausted and frightened, proving life on the run is a lil more than the woman can handle I'd likely be buying it too.

The key in hand making her way through the casino toward the exit, scanning the faces in front of her for any potential threat she becomes distracted to the point I'm able to slip up beside her from behind unnoticed.

Catching her off guard by snaking my arm around her waist and pulling her to me with a loud friendly ' I was wondering when you were going to get here.' for anyone who happened to be paying attention I make my real, less than friendly intentions clear by digging my fingertips hard into her hip.

Seeing her body tensing to the point that anyone remotely suspicious would see something isn't quite right I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a full on hug while whispering what it is is she needs to know and understand privately against her ear. "You'd better make it look good Doc! Attract too much attention and you just may get yourself caught, little lady."

Understanding the weight of what I'm saying she relaxes in my grip wrapping her arms around my waist forcing herself to hug me back.

I lean in close pressing myself against her, my lips brushing against her ear intimately as I speak just to see what she's made of. " That's right... Put on a nice show for the people! You know I'm right. If the long arm of the law catches up to you or I those two you're in here risking your life to protect won't be far behind, Doc."

She leans back in my arms, smiling sweetly, putting up a braver front that I'd ever imagined her capable of, before taking hold of my hand and pulling me through the rows of slot machine with a loud ' Its been too long! We must catch up right this minute.' for anyone who happens to be listening until she finds the right secluded spot for us to stop and talk.

She takes a seat on a stool in front of a nickel machine digging in her pocket with the one hand I'm willing to let go of and stuffs a twenty into the slot while silently urging me to do the same.

When I ignore her she pulls another from her pocket leaning over and slipping in into the slot in front of me while she speaks. "You're right. We can't afford to attract attention."

She taps the button in front of me sending the reels spinning to cover her words. " Where's LJ?

Coming up a loser, as usually, I return the favor by hitting all the right buttons to set her machine into action as I lean in to answer her. " He's up in the room."

Out of the corner of my eye I see the fear building in her eyes as she keeps at the mindless task of feeding the machine as if nothing out the ordinary is taking place. "Take me to him. Let me take him to his father before someone gets hurt?"

I step off the stool scooting it across the floor to get closer leaning over and speaking softly to keep it all seemingly casual and friendly for any onlookers when the reality of the move is all about intimidation and being near enough to take physical control of her if need be. "You think I'm going to take you up there, give you the boy, and let the two of you waltz right out of here?"

Keeping her on her toes, shaking things up just for the cheap thrill of startling her I reach up and tap the 'cash out' button sending dozens of nickels falling loudly to the metal cup below. " I don't get the boy or Scofield? I can understand your trying but for the life of me I can't imagine you'd actually think I'd go for it when there's nothing in this set up of yours for me, Doc? I haven't come this far to walk away empty handed ..."

She swallows hard, fingers trembling on the blinking button, her eyes trained on the spinning reels. " Fine. Let him go and I'll stay in his place."

While I realize I've already spent far too much time playing games with the good doctor, significantly upping the odds of getting caught, her sudden willingness to do anything it takes to protect the others is more temptation than a man like myself has the ability to resist and I find I simply can't force myself to turn and walk away.

Toying with her, testing her limits, I place my hand on her knee squeezing gently as I speak. " Just how far would you go to save him, Doc?"

It becomes very obvious she's willing to go pretty damn far, when she doesn't blink or move a muscle as I slide my hand across her leg, to the inside of her thigh, and up, roughly, between her legs. " Sorry Doc! While there is something very appealing about having what I've watched him enjoy..."

Her eyes still focused straight ahead grow wide with the fear and horror I'd been waiting oh so patiently to see. " Wait! Sorry ... didn't he tell you I was in the room that night? That I watched the two of you?

Her head snaps around to face me and her fear blends beautifully with a newly discovered air of anger and disgust. "You two put on one hell of a show, Doc."

Realizing than in the last few minutes two people have taken up residence at nearby machines making her need to play along, not attract attention greater than ever I slip off the stool, standing, moving in, right up against her, brushing her hair back over her shoulder and punctuating what I have to say with sloppy wet kisses all over her neck and waiting earlobe "Do you think it'll make it easier for him if I call him Michael?"

'Michael... Oh!... Michael..." I whisper it breathless, doing my best to sound like she did that night, against her ear. " Think if he closes his eyes real tight and hears your voice maybe he'll forget its me doing all those things to him?"

Holding her there, shaking in my grasp, clearly terrified, I watch with satisfaction as a lone tear slides down her pale cheek. " I know you want to keep him. I respect that particular desire, Doc."

I move back grabbing hold of her chin forcing her to turn and look at me. " But I want him more, and the finest courts in the land will tell you I'm the kind of man willing to do anything it takes to get what I want."

Eye to eye, holding her gaze to be damn sure she knows I mean what I say I reach in my pocket, pull it out, tucking it neatly between my fingers as I slip my hand inside her blouse, working my fingers under her bra to caress the soft skin of her bare breast. " The room number's on that piece of paper. Be there. All of you, two hours."

I pull my hand out leaving the tiny slip of paper behind scrapping my jagged nails hard at her tender skin as I go. " Try anything funny and I'll shoot the boy between the eyes.

" Now go!"

As she slides off the stool turning to leave I grab hold of her shoulder pulling her back against me. " You tell him I didn't touch the kid. But remember this is going to be a lot easier if he's angry, hates me, wants me dead..."

Making my point, no longer giving a damn what anyone sees, I hold her tight in my grasp allowing my free hand to roam shamelessly all over her body. "... so you be sure to let him know I had my hands all over you, Doc."

TBC... 


	12. Chapter 12

Don't You Ever Forget This.

Time to Go ( chapter # 12)

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

Not one of us has said a single word since we got to the room.

Once she'd told us just where we needed to be and how much time we had to get there, there wasn't much to be said.

For the first time since we found ourselves thrown together, we are as far apart as three people sharing one small room could possibly be, and for me, not that I'd tell either one of them, that makes all that lies ahead much more difficult to face.

The moment we walked into the room he went straight to the window. without saying a word. When darkness set in shortly after he arrived, he threw the tacky floral drapes open wide and has been standing there staring out at the lights lining the strip ever since.

I want to say something to him but I doubt he'd hear a word.

Realizing there is nothing I can do for him other than get his son back I set my sights on her and head for the bathroom realizing her lengthy stay there is more about hiding than any sort of need for the facilities.

Knocking and calling her name I can tell by the sound of her voice that she is right inside the door. Possibly sitting up against it. " Sara, let me in."

Met with silence, with no response at all I try the last thing I want to say which also happens to be the one thing I know will reach her. " I need you, Sara... Please, let me in? "

She remains quiet for a good long while, making me believe she intends to shut me out completely, before whispering her reply as she unlocks the door. "Sorry. It's open, now. "

Stepping inside with the light off, the room is dark with the exception of the soft glow of a tiny red light mounted in the outlet. I can barely make out her form, slumped, head hung low, hair falling forward hiding her face, sitting on the counter just inside the door. " What are you doing in here?"

As I move into the room and stand in front of her, she reaches out not saying a word, and grabs hold of my hand pulling me through the darkness and into waiting her arms.

Telling myself it's for her, knowing full well it's me that needs her comfort more than I'd dare admit, I wrap her up in my arms holding her close while doing all I can to make light of the moment for both our sakes. " This really takes me back."

She sniffles a little and I can feel moisture from her tears on my shirt as she leans in to rest her head against my chest. " What? What about any of this could possibly take you back?"

I push her legs gently apart with my knee pulling her to the edge of the counter right against me. " Well. let's see, I was seventeen, almost eighteen, tucked away with a pretty girl on the bathroom counter at her parents house both of them, including a father who'd of had my ass strung up if he knew what we were up to, only two rooms away."

" First time?" I can barely hear her, her faced buried in my shirt.

" Yep."

She laughs softly against my chest. " Not what I'd call romantic for a first time but daring, I'll give you that. And a lot more interesting than the back seat of a car."

I rest my chin on her head breathing in the smell of her hair still damp from the shower she took the moment we got to the room. " See there, its a good thing we never met back then. I didn't have a car and I would have been crushed when you shot me down in favor of some guy with a shiny new BMW."

She laughs softly running the tips off her fingers slowly up and down my back easing my body and mind. " Actually, it was a Mustang not a BMW"

I return the favor savoring the warmth of her body against the palms of hands as they roam gently over her back and shoulders. " Mustang, Huh? Had a bit of a thing for bad boys, maybe?"

She sighs scooting her body, against all odds, even closer to me pressing our bodies together at every point possible as if it's the last contact she'll ever feel. " You're trying to calm me down again aren't you, Michael?"

" Could be, still lousy at it, eh?"

" Yeah... " She moves her head to the side nuzzling into my neck and brushing her lips lightly against my skin. " ...but you are still trying."

I close my eyes tightly trying to commit everything about her to memory before I'm forced to let go. " that I am..."

" You're also saying good-bye again, Michael" She tilts her head up looking me in the eye and even in the faint light I can see the dark circles ringing her eyes as well as the wet tears staining her cheeks.

Searching for what to say I hear the knock, a single fist against the door, stopping me from saying any of the things I want to say, but know I shouldn't ... can't say.

His voice is calm but I can hear the fear, stronger now than facing execution, in his words. " Time to go!"

Helping her down from the counter I pull her into my arms taking the opportunity to kiss her one last time. " You stay with Linc. Don't leave his side. He'll take care of you until I get back."

Two floors down and a dozen or so rooms over we find room 1104.

The latch on the door has been turned leaving the door unable to close fully, ready for us, for an easy entrance. Standing there wondering what to say, to knock, or not to knock, Linc, his face a picture of tightly controlled rage, grabs the handle and pushes his way inside without a thought of what may lie on the other side.

Catching sight of the two of them sitting on the edge of the bed nearest the window a gun pressed to his son's temple he launches himself toward them making me use every ounce of my body weight, throwing myself in front of him, to stop his progress. " NO! Don't! "

He smiles at us, stroking LJ's thigh with his free hand as he speaks. " You are the smart one aren't you, Pretty? You might want to consider a choke chain and leash for that brother of yours. He does seems to make things more difficult for you at every turn now doesn't he?"

He looks past me licking his lips and blowing a mock kiss to her. " Do us all a favor and make sure that door behind you is locked up nice and tight, Doc."

As she turns to do as he says his face changes, becoming puzzled, disappointed as he watches her. " Hair is still wet, Doc. Didn't tell him did you? You went back and tried to scrub me off your skin without telling him a word now didn't you?"

He looks at his hand bringing up to his mouth, slowly tearing a nail away with his teeth before spitting on the floor. " Won't work. I think that one right there may be the culprit. The one that had your lovely white skin and warm blood pushed up under it when we were all done today, Doc."

He looks me in the eye, challenging me, his hand sliding higher on my scared nephew's leg. " I don't recall if it was the right or left, they're both so nice, but I left my mark for you to see on one of those sweet little titties of hers, Pretty."

Turning to her I'm shocked to see her gazed, unwilling to meet my eye, fixed on his face. No fear just anger and hatred for him burning in her eyes as I pull back the neckline of her shirt enough to see the scratch, red and raised, dried blood marking the jagged edges, on her body.

" You Son-of-a-BITCH!" Ready to tear his fucking head off or die trying I feel my brothers hand on me, returning the favor, taking firm hold of my arm, and holding me back.

Controlling the rage and shaking free of his grasp I step forward ready to make this finally only about the two of us. "Fine! I'm here. That's what you wanted. Now, let them go."

He rises to his feet pulling LJ up with him roughly by the waist of his jeans. " I'd like nothing better, Scofield. You come over here and take his place and I'll let the boy, all of them, go, right here and now"

As I move in to stand facing him he moves the barrel of the gun from LJ's side up to the center of my forehead making my voice waver as I strain to speak. " Did he touch you LJ?"

He mumbles the answer making it hard for me to hear standing right in front of him.

" Say it nice and loud for all to hear, boy."

He looks to his father and back to me, T Bag, jerking his hold on him hard enough to cause him to stumble forward into me as he speaks. " NO! He's a sick fucking pervert who does a lot of talking but never laid a hand on me until just now. "

With that he lets go of him.

Free at last, I keep thinking 'why doesn't he run' as he, instead moves closer to me. " All the talking he did, it was about you."

As he leans in I can see what all of this has done to him. He's filthy, dirt on his face, his hair greasy hanging in tired eyes making it vividly clear he'd had the good sense to stay fully clothed and never turn his back on the man. " Jesus, Uncle Mike, you can't stay with him. He'll kill you!"

" Go to you dad, LJ."

He shakes his head and understanding how brave he's being, how he's trying to help, my stomach turns over with guilt as I order him to do what I say through angry clenched teeth. " I said go to your dad, NOW, LJ!"

Refusing to turn around, unable to look at them anymore, hearing my brothers voice speaking to his son in hushed tones, knowing they are together, safe, I whisper in a gentle voice, the one I know he wants to hear, one that lights a fire in his eyes. " I'm here now T Bag ... let them go."

He looks to them with a sudden lack of interest nodding to the door and telling them to 'leave' as his free hand slips under my t shirt and begins stroking my side.

I close my eyes distancing myself from the feel of hands on my skin while waiting silently to hear the sound of the door closing behind them.

" Burrows!... Wait! "

My eyes fly open and my mind begins searching for why he's stopped them. Reeling, spinning out of control, with all the thoughts of what could be about to happen making it near impossible to think straight or draw breath.

He looks at me stern pressing the gun hard against my forehead. "Take the shirt off."

As I pull upward on the hem he moves the gun from my head to my side allowing the material, suddenly soaked with sweat, to pass easily over my head and to the floor.

" Now the pants, Scofield." With shaky hands I undo the button and zipper, hooking my fingers in the waistband, push them down while fighting the urge to throw up.

He leans in looking over my shoulder running his tongue over my collar bone as he speaks. " I am of the opinion that you've never had the proper respect for what this mans done for you, Burrow's..."

He bites down on my shoulder his eyes never leaving them as he reaches around my naked body squeezing hard while pulling me roughly against him. " Maybe I'll send him back when I'm done. Maybe I won't. Either way don't you ever forget this ... what he did for you!"

With that he eases up his lips and hands moving slowly almost tenderly over my body as he growls his last words at them. " Now go! Get the fuck out of here and don't try anything stupid if you ever want to see him alive again."

TBC... 


	13. Chapter 13

Get Ready To Run ( Time to Go Chapter #13 )

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin. .

We stand there just as they left us, not a word, listening, for the latch to click into place, and the sound of the their foot steps as they walk away, down the hall.

He leans in whispering as if they can somehow still hear him. " Since your willingness to sacrifice yourself isn't in question, keep in mind that anything you do to piss me off will bring a world of hurt down on the three of them."

With that he moves to the door checking the lock, looking back over his shoulder watching my every move as he goes "Try anything and I'll take you up there with me and make you watch."

Alone, the door secure he goes right back to where he left off by moving in to stand in front of me.

Looking past him trying to distance myself from what's happening by dissecting patterns on the wallpaper across the room he lays his hands one me while pressing his lips hard into my own.

My attempt to distract myself fails as he begins stroking rhythmically while running the tip of his tongue over my lips forcing me to close my eyes and slow my breathing in an effort to fight the waves of nausea rising up in me.

Standing there with his hands on me, while I focus on the three of them safely away from all of this, T-bag, without warning, stops everything startling me into opening my eyes when he suddenly backs away. " Nothing?""

He takes a deep breath, sighing, rolling his eyes at me as he steps back a bit. " It was worth a shot you'd be surprised how many acted disgusted by the mere thought, then when push came to shove, no one watchin', became oh so willing and agreeable.

" Not the case, with you, eh, Scofield? Shame!..." He steps back a bit more looking me over from head to toe. "...such a beautiful man! "

While it's all far from comfortable it's a hell of a lot easier to take this questioning rather than to proceed with how things were going just a few short minutes ago. As much as I want to look away I can't help watching him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

" You don't want my hands on you, fine, do it yourself, then."

While I have a very good idea what's he's getting at, the expression on my face must say otherwise prompting him to spell it all out with words and a hard to misinterpret hand gesture. " Jack off? ... Jerk off? ... hand job? Whatever euphemism you like. Either way you'd better get at it or I'm gonna do it for you."

Shocked by what I'm hearing I can't bring myself to do anything but stare at him in utter disbelief. " It's not that difficult. Never met a man who didn't know how. I know for damn sure this one lil request should be preferable to all the things you though I had planned for you!"

When I fail to move he takes a step forward reaching out for me growling one last threat. " Do it right fucking now or I will...? "

I slap his hand away before he reaches me angering him all the more. " Don't forget, Pretty, piss me off and I go after them."

" I said do it! "

Seeing no choice I close my eyes and take myself in hand.

I have to fight to keep them closed. I don't trust him enough to take my eyes off him but I'm forced to keep them closed anyway knowing I'll never be able to do what he's demanding while forced to look him in the eye. " That's right... Close your eyes and pretend I'm not even here. Close em' real tight and think of the pretty, pretty Doc until you can bring it home.

"Tell me, did she tell you she loves you?" The anger is his voice fades into a smooth, gentle tone that makes me wonder just how often he's done this sort of thing. " Because I'm pretty sure she does. The evidence speaks for itself don't you think? Walking out on the good life to be with you said a lot but it wasn't until she offered to take your place this afternoon..."

Stunned by what I'm hearing I stop. " That's right..."

He leans over urging my hand back into motion while whispering in my ear. " Don't stop now you were just starting to get somewhere..."

As I comply he moves away again picking up the train of thought and soft cadence of his voice without missing a beat. "... that's just what she did! She offered to go with me if I let you go. That right there says something, don't you think? She would have traded herself for you. Let her help you now... "

" Think of her..."

" Think of how she fits your body ... of how she pleases you.

" I've seen how she pleases you..."

" Let her help you do this one thing and you can go..."

" Let her help then go find her and the two of you can slip over the border onto a sunny beach where you'll forget all about me, this room, even forget all about Fox River.

He keeps at it and while the sound his voice ringing in my ears is distracting making the task difficult to say the least memories of her flooding through my mind bring me closer and closer. " Almost there now, Pretty ... keep your eyes closed."

My body beginning to shake, on the edge, I nearly stop as I feel him move in closer. " No, don't even think about stopping. I'm not gonna touch you, I swear"

In spite of his words he moves in closer yet forcing me to speak for the first time since it all began. " Back off then! "

He's so close now I can feel his hot breath against my skin as he speaks. " Sorry, no can do. Not gonna get it all over me when you come unless I'm nice and close."

" What? What the hell?" When I stop he grabs hold of my wrist, hard, jerking it back into action making his willingness to use force crystal clear.

" Don't stop! "

" So close now..."

" Finish it! "

" You can do it.

" Go back to thinking of her..."

" Think of how she was willing to do anything for you..."

" How you'll do anything to keep her safe..." I keep at it, pushing harder and harder determined to get it over with.

Repulsed by his nearness I do what I have to, just the same knowing I'll to do anything it takes to ensure they get away safely.

When the end comes I have to bite my lip, hard enough to draw blood, to keep from screaming in revulsion. Legs weak, stomach weaker, barely able to breath, I stumble backward nearly falling to the bed stopped only by his hand as he reaches out grabbing hold of my forearm steadying me. " Nice! Very nice, Pretty..."

Standing there soaked in sweat, shaking, trying not to think about what could be next I'm shocked as he lets go snatching my shirt from the floor, tossing it, hitting me square in the chest as he walks away. " Now get dressed."

Relieved to have him out of the room, dressing as quickly as possible, I hear the water run briefly in the other room before he returns, damp cloth in hand, and takes a seat on the bed next to the gun I'd failed to notice he'd left lying there when he walked away.

He looks up at me as if nothing had happened nodding nonchalantly for me to do as he says. " Have a seat."

Meticulously wiping every inch with the damp cloth, his attention so focused on the task at hand I'd have to wonder, if not for his words, if he'd even realize I'm still there. " I meant what I said to your brother. All you've done for him and now..."

He scoots across the bed pulling open the drawer on the nightstand shoving the bible forward to pull out a silencer. " He should be kicking that fucking door in and dragging you out of here..."

He screws the silencer into place wiping it as he goes. " But somehow he doesn't..."

I try to keep my cool but my voice, cracking as I speak, betrays me. " So you're going to kill me to make a point?"

He stands, gun in hand holding it lightly, unthreatening, between two fingers. " I see what he's made of..." Watching me carefully he lays the gun on the bed next to me. " Now let's see what you're made of."

Taking my eyes off him only a moment to look at what's being offered, to see the gun laying next to me on the bed, I turn back to see him seated, shoulders squared, hands on his knees, waiting. " Here's your chance. Pick it up. Blow my fucking head off and I'll never be able to bother any of you again."

" Do you have it in you, Scofield?"

" Ask yourself if you don't will I ever leave any of you alone?"

" How can you be sure when you leave this room I won't go after the boy... after the Doc."

Holding his defenseless posture he sneers in my face, pushing, challenging me. " Would you ever forgive yourself for letting this chance slip away if I caught up with them raped and tortured both of them until I got so bored of it all I slit their throats and wrote your name on the fucking walls with their blood just to remind you of the opportunity you let slip away."

Disgusted, ready to do what needs to be done I snatch up the gun closing the distance between us, pressing the barrel to his oil slicked forehead.

I stand there silent waiting for him to stop me, to defend himself, but he doesn't move a muscle.

Watching me, refusing to close his eyes, he looks at me dead on while daring me to pull the trigger. " Do it! Right here, right now! Show me you're no better. Show me you're a killer, just like me, Scofield."

My hand shaking on the grip, searching for the strength to pull the trigger, forcing me to use both hands to steady the gun.

He leans forward pressing the barrel into his skin. " Do it! Right fucking now!"

Standing there, wanting nothing more than to pull the trigger, but finding I can't, I lay the gun on the bed next to him. " I won't do it. When this is over, and it will be over, I'm not going to spend the rest of my in prison for murdering a worthless piece of shit like you."

Still seated he picks the gun up and lays it gently in his lap before looking up to me.

" Ironic, that's what's going to happen either way..."

"... I set you up."

His eyes go cold and dark as he speaks sending chills down my spin. " I've sent letters to all the right people. Told them we were lovers in prison. That we'd been together since the escape. I told them that you'd forced me to go after the boy and bring him to you or you'd kill me."

He smiles up at me tapping his fingernail on the steel of the gun. " I told them you were afraid the Doc and your brother knew about us and feared you'd kill me to keep the secret whether I brought the boy to you or not."

My head spinning from what I'm hearing I mumble, something I don't believe myself even as I say it, the first thing that comes to mind. " No one would buy it!"

He laughs in my face and the sound of his laugher causes my stomach to turn over repeatedly on itself. " Why wouldn't they? I mean of course there are people who'd say otherwise, rush to your defense, but in an unfortunate turn for you all of those people will have a hard time testifying since they're all a bit busy running from the law after you broke them out of prison."

" Then, of course, there is the evidence."

I stammer my reply caught off guard by the last thing I expected to happen when I walked into the room. " Evidence? What evidence?"

He lifts the gun off his lap raising it to his temple. " Both of our prints are all over this gun."

" The room near the elevator so the security cameras would get nice footage of all of you coming in and out of the room."

" More security footage with the Doc this afternoon to make them think she'd found out something that might make you angry enough to kill."

He rubs the index finger over the stains drying on his clothing. " Bodily fluids from one last tryst gone horribly wrong?

" Should all add up real nicely, don't you think?"

" You're bluffing. You wouldn't kill yourself T Bag! "

I try to convince myself its true but even as I say the words I know deep inside, in the end, there is no way to predict just what a man like this is capable of doing. "You value your own hide too much and you know it."

" Get ready to run Scofield. "

" Run and don't stop running!"

Looking at him sitting there staring me dead in the eye, gun pressed to his head, I manage to convince myself he's bluffing, that he won't do it right before he utters... " And as you run ask yourself how far will HE go to prove YOUR innocence?" ... and pulls the trigger.

TBC... 


	14. Chapter 14

I Didn't do It. (Time to go chapter # 14)

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

Stunned by what's happened, barely able to think, I'm shocked to find I have the sense, aware of the possible presence of security camera's, to lower my head and turn away as I move through the door into the hallway.

Turning the opposite direction, down the empty hall, searching for a stairwell, unwilling to be confined to an elevator, I can't help feeling a fool realizing my attempt to hide my identity is feeble at best.

Moving quickly, short of a full on run, fearing attracting unwanted attention from the occupants of the rooms lining the corridor. I understand leaving the scene of a crime, my clothing splattered with blood, piled on top of all the other evidence is more than enough to make the case whether a camera catches a glimpse of my face or not.

Searching signs mounted on the walls for the way I turn a corner too fast, no longer taking the time to stop and look ahead to be sure no one is there, and I run right into him with enough force to nearly knock him off his feet.

" Michael! "

He wraps his arms around me, steadying us both, pulling me against him hard enough to squeeze the little air that remains in my lungs from my body. " I was coming to get you! I know you said not to. I did what you asked, got them to the room and then came back as quick as I could get away. "

His voice wavers as he speaks, fighting for control, making me realize how hard it was for him to walk away. " I couldn't leave you with that twisted son-of-a-bitch, Michael. I wouldn't! You have to know that."

He leans back searching my face for absolution only to see something else there that sends him into a quiet rage the like of which I've never see. " Blood?"

Whether it a matter of touching it to be sure it's real or a means to fuel his anger he reaches over smearing a drop of blood I had no way of knowing was even there from my cheek with his thick thumb. " There's blood, Michael..."

He stares at it for a moment rubbing, smearing it between his thumb and index finger. " He hurt you?"

Half expecting him to look up at me for an answer, he does nothing but watch, his fingers carefully moving against each other grinding the drying blood deep into his skin as his hand becomes a tight white-knuckled fist. "I'll go over there and kill that twisted fuck with my bare hands if he hurt you! "

" It's not my blood, Linc."

He looks at me bewildered with that vengeful look still in his eyes as he clenches his hands in frustration. "If its not yours... who's?"

" His... It's his! He's dead."

The vengeful look fades into a look, something new, something I've never seen before. " You killed him?"

Watching his face, seeing doubt and shock play over his features at the thought that I could do such a thing, I can't help wondering what it's been like for him all these years having so many people, even me, look at him certain he was capable of such a thing himself. " No! He did it himself. I couldn't do it, so he did for me"

He nods, his hand firm and reassuring on my shoulder, accepting what I say without a question.

" It's going to look like I did ... he made sure it'll look like I did it, Linc."

" You're sure?" As he says it I can see in his eyes that he understands what I am saying.

" I'm positive. It's only a matter of time before they find the body. I'll tell you everything later but right now we need to get Sara and LJ, pack up and get out of the country as... Wait... you came down the stairs?"

" Yeah.. yeah... I did! They're just around the corner at the end of this hall." With that he grabs hold my shoulder starting down the hall urging me on in front of him as if his leading the way, letting me out of his sight, is more than he'll ever be willing do again.

Back to the room, safely through the door I'm relieved to see LJ seated in a chair at the table by the window.

I can see right away he took the opportunity to shower, to wash away all he could of his experience with T bag the instant he had the chance.

His wet hair and clean clothes, likely some of mine judging by the reasonable fit in the waistline in sharp contrast to rolled sleeves and pant legs makes him look his age, less hardened. It gives me some hope that maybe the scars from all this won't run too deep.

" Where's Sara, LJ?"

He nods at the closed bathroom door next to me looking to his father with a worried look in his eyes. " She went back in there after you left and refused come out or answer even when I knocked."

Understanding what he's saying, believing things to be just as before I turn to the door, raising my hand to knock. Before I can he stops me with a firm hand on my arm. " This isn't like before. She was sick when we got back here. Physically ill. It was all she could do to make in there and not toss her cookies in the hall, Michael."

Turning to face him, looking into those eyes, understanding what it is he's trying to tell me I begin to feel sick myself realizing how much pain I've put her though. " When she did come out she was weak. I thought she was going to pass out."

As he meets my eye I see genuine worry written all over his face, " She can't take much more of this, Michael. We have to get her back home."

I nod my agreement, relieved at not having to ask, but knowing for certain that if something happens to me he'll watch over her, as I reach for the door.

" LJ and I'll pack it up. I'll bring you something to wear ... we have to get rid of those clothes, Mike."

I thought getting LJ back would help but standing there studying his face he looks worn, tired, and defeated, mechanically going about doing what needs to be done. Looking at his face I can see all of this is becoming more than any of us can take. " Talk to her. Get her ready to leave. While your there, wash, carefully, be sure to get every drop of blood off before we walk out of here."

I Test the knob, finding the door unlocked and step though without announcing myself.

I'm struck by the familiarity of the two us there, again, together in the same place we were only ninety minutes ago.

The room dark, my eyes taking their time adjusting, I nearly miss her seated on the floor, back against the tub, knees drawn up to her chest, head hung low her hair hiding her face. She doesn't move, not bothering to look up, believing it to be Linc or LJ intruding ... not me.

" Sara?... It's me." I try to be calm for her sake but a nervous crack in my voice betrays me. " I'm okay. It's okay... I'm back."

" Michael?" She lifts her head slowly her body shaking hard with silent sobs as she rises to her feet and launches herself into my arms.

While the instinct to pull her to me is strong I force myself to stop her holding her gently at arms length " You can't ...not yet, you'll get blood on you."

" Blood? " Like flipping a switch in her, Dr. Tancredi taking over, she pushes me backward and over to the side so she can reach over and switch on the lights. " What blood? Let me see!"

Looking at myself in the light I can see that the drops, the splatters here and there have smeared making it look like far more blood than it actually is.

" Michael! You're hurt! "

Before I can say otherwise she grabs hold of my shirt pulling it up and over my head in one swift yet delicate and cautious motion. " Where? Where is it coming from?"

Searching for the source she begins running her hands across my chest and down both my sides. While I know I should stop her, tell her I'm okay, tell her it's not me, I find can't bring myself to say a single word.

Standing there frozen in place, speechless, I look down and watch her hands on my body. Breathing deeply, closing my eyes, I let the feel of her gentle touch wipe away the memory of him.

" It's his blood not mine... T Bag's dead, Sara."

Waiting for a response I stare down at her in disbelief as, unlike my own brother, she says nothing, no questions, no indication that she has any interest at all in knowing if I'd killed a man.

Surprised by her reaction, or lack of it, I begin to think perhaps this is how she sees me, what she believes I'm capable of, until she mutters a barely audible " Good! " her voice tinged with a fear and loathing for him that makes me see her reaction is more about his being gone than what role in his death I did or didn't play.

Seeing her so hard, cold and unfeeling, not like the Sara I know, makes it clear that Linc's right and we have to find a way to get her home as soon as possible.

" I didn't do it..." I'm not sure why I bother to say it at all since I can see in her angry hurt eyes, she wouldn't be disappointed if I had. "...he killed himself."

Standing there watching her, waiting, unsure what it is I want her to say, or not say. It turns out not to matter either way, as we're interrupted by a knock at the door. " Here's something to wear..." Not waiting for a reply the door opens quickly as he pokes his head and shoulders through the opening, to toss a pair of jeans and shirt onto the counter. "Get cleaned up and changed!"

My attention focused on the clothing piled nearby he ignors me altogether and steps past me into the room handing her a heavy black trash bag. "LJ snagged this off the maids cart down the hall. Put everything he has on in the bag and bring it out with you..."

She nods her agreement shaking open the bag, picking my shirt up from the floor, stuffing it inside, listening carefully to his every word as she goes.

" No evidence here guys. We take it with us when we go just to be sure."

As he leaves the door closing loudly behind him, she turns away pushing the shower curtain open with a loud clatter before leaning down twisting both knobs in unison to start a rush of water flowing into the tub.

" I didn't kill him, Sara. He gave me the chance but I couldn't do it."

She gets down to her knees holding her hand under the running water, testing the temperature against her skin while turning her head to look back to me over her shoulder.

" I know ..." She smiles at me and I believe for the first time that she does.

Her smile is soft and sweet, like always, but also somehow sadder and more hopeless than I ever imagined possible. "You're no killer, Michael."

Task complete she rises to her feet shaking her wet hand over the tub declaring it 'ready' before crossing to stand in front of me holding the bag open waiting patiently for my blood stained clothing

" I know you didn't ... but it's going to look like you did so we need to go"

TBC... 


	15. Chapter 15

It's Time to Go, Michael!  
Time to go ( chapter # 15/16)

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

It only took a few hours to reach San Diego, but sitting in the back-seat of the car, nothing to see but the blackness of the night desert through the windows, my mind raced out of control every mile of the way.

How long would it be before they discovered the body?

Would it be housekeeping in the morning or would they find it sooner?

My stomach rolled over every time my thoughts drifted to the bag of blood soaked clothing in the trunk. Hands trembling in my lap thinking of what would happen if we were stopped for some reason and it was discovered.

For a while I thought it might prove more than I could stand but an hour or so into the journey, feeling as if I may scream or bolt from the moving car, I happened to look over at LJ, just a kid really, seating next to me slumping over then jerking himself upright in an attempt to stay awake, and found a small measure of peace, sanity, in taking care of someone else.

Without saying a word I slipped off the sweat-jacket I was wearing, folded it tightly and placed it on my knee while tapping his shoulder, motioning for him to lie down. He resisted a bit but finding his eyes kept sliding shut on him as he mumbled his ' No, I'm okay 's he eventually gave up and curled up on the back-seat feet pressing against the door with his head resting in my lap.

While he falls asleep quickly; even in sleep the tension and fear still plagues him.

His rest is disturbed, twitching and squirming to get comfortable, so I attempt to calm him by putting my hand on his arm, firmly, reassuring, holding him in place while brushing the hair from his eyes and stroking his sleeping head.

Slowly, fighting occasional bouts of shutters, he eventually stills under my hands and falls into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Relieved to have found something to occupy myself , my own tension eased by taking care of him I look up to see him there, turned around in his seat, watching me, his son, smiling softly at me as he whispers a sincere and grateful " Thank You. "

As the miles roll past the regular rhythm of his breathing and occasional soft snore of the boy in my lap serves to calm all three of us making the run from T Bag, to safety, pass quickly and become somehow easier to bare.

As we moved through the night Michael ran through all that had happened quietly and calmly for his brother's benefit.

While I'm forced to sit still, unable to lean up and better hear, the quiet in the car, of the night all around us, makes it possible for me, even thought they speak in little more than a whisper, to hear enough to understand what had happened in that room.

Watching the hopelessness of what lies ahead settling itself firmly on Michael's shoulders, I spend the remainder of the trip dipping my head low, making them believe I'm checking on the boy asleep in my lap, to hide the tears of fear and worry I refuse to allow either of them to see if they should happen to look in my direction.

Sometime before dawn I'm awaken with a start, shocked to find I'd fallen asleep, the side of my head resting against the cool glass of the window, rocking forward abruptly as the car comes to a stop in front a yet another motel.

Orientating myself, rubbing my eyes, shaking off the less than peaceful slumber I'd slipped into; I'm relieved to see the stop has awaken LJ as well causing him to pull himself upright staring at me with a hint of confusion before letting his eyes fall shut again as he his head falls back to the seat behind him.

Understanding my role, least likely recognized, well practiced at it over time, I don't bother to look at either of them as I go about fishing crumpled bills from my pant pockets and exit the car to secure a room...

Most of the day that follows is spent in silence.

The four of us watching each other carefully but hardly saying a word.

A handful of discussions about waiting until night to leave... how much money is left.  
how long it will hold out... take place but other than that little else is said by anyone.

As the day wears on I'm treated too numerous pleas to ' lie down, try and get some sleep' coming from both of them at regular intervals.

While I brush them off explaining, I'm not tired, that I'd slept in the car, the truth is there is something in their behavior pushing me not to close me eyes for fear of waking alone after being left behind.

By late afternoon thoroughly tired of the badgering I do what they want, I lie down on the bed and close my eyes.

Intending only to make them believe I'd fallen asleep, startled by a sound outside somewhere, I open my eyes, searching for the digital clock on the nightstand, certainly minutes had passed only to discover three hours had passed me by.

Looking around, searching the dark room with tired, terrified, eyes, certain I'll find the room empty, find myself alone, my eyes finally catch sight of him nearby seated in a chair resting his feet on the end of his son's bed.

Noticing me he lifts a thick finger to his lips shhhh's me without saying a word.

Lying there watching him I shift my gaze to his son, sleeping on other bed, then look back, nodding my understanding, my own finger to my lips, mimicking the shhh after pointing in LJ's direction.

Barely able to see him in the darkness I see well enough to get a look at a big smile spreading across his face as he shakes his head, laughing softly as he points to something behind me.

Curious and a little afraid I lean up slowly, just enough to turn my head and see him lying, asleep, on the bed next to me.

Relieved to see him there, almost forgetting all that happened in the last twenty four hours, it all comes rushing back and I take in how he is.

On top of the blanket he'd covered me with, fully clothed, shoes and all, he lies in an awkward position, barely on the bed, one foot still on the floor as if he had to be ready to move at a moments notice and falling asleep was the last thing he felt safe in or intended to do.

I watch him only a moment, comforted by his nearness yet terrified for him before turning away, lying back down and bringing my head to rest on the pillow. While the urge to look to Linc for reassurance is strong I close my eyes tight knowing deep inside if I look to him, meet his eye, I'll see nothing but the same fear, and worry, for Michael I feel in every inch of my body.

Eyes closed pushing my head down into the pillow as far as it will go searching for a way to hide, for a way to make it all slip away, if only for that moment, I hear something, soft at first, then louder and clearer, getting nearer outside the door with each passing second.

Opening my eyes slowly looking to him I'm treated to another shhhhh as he slip off the chair silently moving quickly to the door with an easy grace unusual and somehow unsettling in a man his side.

Standing to the side of the door, the footsteps stopping suddenly just outside,  
he pokes at Michael's leg with the tip of his boot slowly, waking him, holding his hand out to stop him in just case he dares to speak as he wakes, pointing to the closed door mouthing the words 'someone's out there'.

Nodding his understanding Michael slips off the bed without a sound and takes up a position on the other side of the door.

Watching them, nothing happening, everything quiet, all of us frozen, no more than a minute or two, even thought it feels as if it goes on forever, I, at the sound of a soft knock at the door, move from one bed to the other wrapping my arm around LJ's shoulder, awake and nervous, pulling him near me doing what I can to orient and calm him, calm both of us.

With no response to the knock, not one of us moving a muscle, barely daring to breath we hear a faint voice pleading on the other side of the door.  
"Lincoln?"

The two of them still set strategically on either side of the closed door stare at one another, their mouths dropping open in disbelief. " Linc, it's me. I know you're there. Open the door and let me in."

With a nod of acknowledgment after a glance through the peep-hole he opens the door just enough for her to slip through it before closing it again as quickly as possible.

As if the two of them are alone, the only one's in the room she throws herself into his arms kissing his stubbled cheek several times, whispering.  
" You're safe... thank God you're safe... I can't believe I finally caught up with you!" between each kiss before possessively moving to his lips.

Still shocked to see what appears to be a friendly face I can't help smiling watching the two of them together as he pulls her into a fierce hug mumbling..." What the Hell are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, V! "  
against the top of her head.

Reluctant to let go she buries her head in his shoulder for a moment sighing deeply before releasing her hold, taking several steps back, watching his face, all of our faces, carefully as she explains what it is she is doing in San Diego.  
" I'm here to bring you home...

"...I've been looking for of you. We put a tracking device in the sole of LJ's shoe to safeguard him, find him if someone tries to take him, in the end it led us to you."

Not a one of us saying a word we watch one another all staring wide-eyed in disbelief before looking to her, bewildered, as if she's speaking a foreign language.  
" I almost caught up to you in Vegas but you were gone before I could stop you. You can come back. I'm here to take you home"

" Home?" Like its more than he comprehend, too good to be believed, he stumbles backward shaking his head confident it's all a lie. " That's not possible. What do you mean home... how! "

" It's possible. It's real! They had two Secret Service Agents in custody when I left. I got word yesterday afternoon they recovered the body of a third just where they'd been told by the two already in custody."

Sidestepping Lincoln smiling she crosses the room to takes a seat on the bed next to LJ. "They've cleared you in your parent's murders, LJ. Both men have given statements, and while they are doing all they can to pin the deaths on one another, both have made it abundantly clear, in separate interviews, that you had nothing to do with it and would have been a victim yourself if you hadn't of run away."

I can't see the tears, only hear hushed sniffles of relief and sadness as he bows his head leaning hard into her as she wraps her arm around his shoulders cradling him against her chest as she speaks. " These men, Lincoln, have given us enough to establish reasonable doubt in your case."

She looks up to him meeting his eye. " Both men, trying to cut a deal by implicating others ' far more important than themselves', claim to have something, hard evidence exonerating you of the crime, to be had for the right price."

While I can't see the boys, I can see tears of happiness stream down her cheeks.  
" Its over. Really over, Linc! Let me take you home."

" Sara, I spoke with your father, took all of this to him, before I left and he said if you come back home, now, he'll do everything in his power to keep things on track and move the case along." While I'm grateful to hear the words they fall short of the desired response as I notice Michael, slipping away, separating himself, moving away unnoticed by the others to sit on the edge of the bed his back to the rest of us.

Searching for a way to say it, to ask, I'm saved the trouble as he does it for me.  
" What about Michael, V? "

It all becomes surreal, like a twisted, warped, version of the ending in the Wizard of Oz. All of us magically getting what we need most with nothing left in the bag for Michael.

Both of them, Michael and Veronica, shaking their heads almost in unison Linc turns on his heel slamming his first into the wall as he speaks. " T Bag... Fucking T bag?  
After everything he's done he's gonna be the one to fry in all this because of fucking T Bag! "

Still refusing to turn around, Michael, his voice steady, he tells his brother the last thing he wants to hear. " Nevada's a death penalty state ... fry's not the right word though ... lethal injection is the method of choice."

I watch horror play across his face, his knuckles raw and bleeding from contact with the wall clearly visible as he scrubs his head and face in thought with his injured hand. " It was suicide, Michael didn't do it. For the life of me I can't imagine what would bring a man like that to wanna kill himself, but it was suicide just the same."

" T Bag was wanted for Murder, Linc." Appearing not to understand what she said she repeats herself while crossing the floor and taking his bleeding hand into hers examining it carefully while making herself clear. " On the way back to get LJ he shot and killed two state troopers in Missouri. All of it was recorded on the in patrol car dash-cam. He was a wanted man, murder, perhaps that would make killing himself seem reasonable?"

Linc too angry to think, considers what she is saying then shakes off what he hears. " That doesn't make sense. T Bag may not have liked it but he wouldn't have killed himself to avoid going back to prison."

" Missouri ... also a death penalty state." The way he speaks flat, lacking emotion refusing to turn and look at us scares me to he point I can focus on nothing else but watching the back of his head and slumped shoulders as the others continue to talk around me.

" Sorry, Michael. Prison life was what T Bag knew. Death penalty or not going back shouldn't have scared him into something so extreme."

With his back to us, swiveling his head around slowly until it cracks twice he explains with ease what the rest of us fail to see. " No it makes sense, Linc.  
It wasn't prison. You're right, prison is what he knew best... his social structure.  
He'd be just fine spending a lifetime behind bars, but death row..."

Understanding what Michael is telling us better than any one person can he buries he face in his hands muffling his voice as he finishes his younger brothers thought. "... Jesus, you're right. The rest of his life separated from the gen pop, always alone, isolated..."

" Exactly! Prison, even dying wouldn't do the trick, but if you think about it you know better than anyone, Linc, living out the rest of his life basically alone would be more than T Bag could take."

All of us at a loss for words she gets to her feet crossing the room slowly until she comes to rest in front of Michael forcing him to look at her as she hands him a keycard. " I'm taking them somewhere where were less likely to be spotted, a nice hotel on the ocean, this is a key to Sara's room. You can't come right now, it's too dangerous for all of us. Take this key, wait until your least likely to be seen and make your way to the Hotel Del Coronado, the newer section on the beach, room 414.

She looks over to Linc then to me doing what she can to reassure us all.  
" We'll all get a good nights sleep and find a way out of this for Michael first thing in the morning."

As we gather our things to leave, unable to take my eyes off him, I watch as he slips the card into his pocket while taking a seat in the frayed upholstered chair on the other side of the room, farthest from the door, never saying a word or meeting any of our eyes as we walk out leaving him behind.

The hours sitting alone waiting for him to come, or not to come, went slowly.

Linc, came in and sat with me for the better part of an hour somewhere in the middle. He did his best to convince me that Michael was safe, that he would come, but eventually it was I that convinced him the best we could hope for is that he'd never come at all.

Sitting there together wishing it could be different both of us agreed no matter how hard it may be the one thing we wanted most, more than seeing,  
him walk through the door, was to know he'd walked out of that cheap seedy motel,  
turned the opposite direction from where we sat and ran away as fast as his feet could carry him.

" Michael? "  
Hearing my voice startles him.

I can't blame him as neither one of us had said a single word since he walked through the door and a word, any word, even the sound of his name after such a long painful silence shakes me as well.

He's standing there, back to me, shirtless, barefoot, only having taken the time to pull on jeans as he crawled from the bed believing me to be asleep, staring out at the night the door open just enough to allow the sounds and smell of the ocean to filter into the room.

Waiting for him to say anything, watching his back, I begin to think he may never speak again. " Please ... say something."

As I say it, pleading with him, my mind drifts back to the moment he arrived, to how I wrapped my arms, my entire self, around his stiff ridged body, to how I had not been silent at all, how in reality I'd spoken often and urgently, begging him to touch me while removing first mine and then his clothing while pulling him, resisting, toward to the nearest bed.

Slipping from the bed, not bothering to dress, cover myself in anyway, I pull his shirt from the floor at the foot of the bed holding it out in one hand while snatching up his shoes in the other as I cross the dark room moving in to stand right behind him.

Dropping the shirt and shoes in a heap at his feet I lean in, pressing my naked body to his, my arms slipping around his waist holding him to me while I lay my head on the warm skin of his back with a heavy sigh.

I stand there unmoving for minutes feeling the warmth of his body against mine reminding myself over and over of what has to be done and how I have to force myself to keep from doing anything that will make it more difficult for either of us.

I tell myself all of that but as his hands move in cupping mine against his stomach I lose the ability to hear my better judgment and I say, for the first time, the one thing I most need to say which also happens to be the last thing he needs to hear. " I love you, Michael."

Squeezing my hands hard in his pulling me closer to him he says nothing for a good long stretch and then without warning he loosens his hold on me,  
pulling his hands away from mine leaning forward, away from my embrace quickly and efficiently distancing himself as much as possible as he speaks. " I'll get you both home tomorrow. Get you both back safe."

Realizing the time has come I let go altogether stepping away from him moving through the darkness finding and pulling on my clothes on as I grab the bag we'd packed from the corner of the room.

Moving back I'm careful not to touch him as I pick up his things from the floor,  
hand them to him and tell him ... " Put them on, Michael."

While he does as I say I drop the bag on the floor next to him.  
" We'll go back, be safe, but only if you don't."

My words stop him in his tracks leaving him frozen in place his shirt half on half off covering his head. " This is both of us. We both agree, the only way Linc and I go back tomorrow is if you run tonight."

Able to move again, clearly angry, likely believing he might, scare me, weaken my resolve he jerks his shirt down over his head, nearly hard enough to rip the thick material, while growling ' No! I won't do it ' through gritted teeth.

Pushing the bag next to him in front of his body with my foot I make myself, what will happen whether he likes it or not, as clear I can. " There's clothing and all the money we had in there. You will do this!  
I know you will because if you don't we won't go back, we'll run ourselves, and everything you've done will be meaningless..."

Refusing to give him time to respond, or continue to put up a fight, I throw the sliding door open wide holding out his shoes and the bag.

" You have no choice. It's time to go, Michael. "

Standing there, silent, not moving, the ocean's air brisk and biting in the wee hours hitting us both like a slap in the face I begin to think he'll refuse until suddenly without warning he takes his things from my hand and disappears, through the open door.

TBC...

"Time to Go " Trivia... Writing 1st person all the time I, when writing a long fic, find one song with the right emotion and listen to that song 2-3 times a day thru the whole writing process. Sixteen weeks of this fic means I've listened to " Twilight Zone " By: Golden Earring WAY TOO MANY TIMES! 


	16. Chapter 16

I'll Find Him Time to go ( 16/16 THE END! )

Disclaimer: Prison Break doesn't belong to me but it is a lot of fun to take the characters out for a spin.

Tuesday marked the six month anniversary of the day we slipped away from Fox River.

We spent just under five weeks on the run before three of us made our way home.

All those weeks running, I kept a fierce grip on my sanity by telling myself that, while it was hell, it would end and, once it did, we'd move on - somewhere tropical like we'd planned - and never speak or think of any of it ever again.

I was wrong.

Without him here, thinking of those times, every move we made, each and every conversation the two of us had in those weeks turned out the be all I have left, all I can think of when I dare to let my mind rest.

As a free man my life has become more normal that I'm able stand.

It was always Michael that hoped for the future, not me.

A nice place to live and a respectable job - the last things I saw in my future six months ago - are now the things I hold on to, but I feel more certain with each passing day they're things I'll never completely grow accustomed to.

Home, free and settled, Veronica stepped in and helped me get a position working with troubled teens.

I fought the idea at first, but the ' Scared Straight' people were relentless, apparently very eager to have a former death row inmate - something not all that easy to come by on the outside - in their line up, making it harder and harder to refuse their offer as time went by.

Eventually, I agreed knowing I was gonna need all the help I could get with my own teen, as well as a means to pay the bills.

To my surprise, I found it to be something, the first thing I can recall I'm good at and, actually, love doing.

Sadly, it has also turned out to be something that keeps him on the edges of my thoughts every moment of every day.

I tell my story over and over knowing that, no matter how painful it may be, it is the price I need to pay for all that happened. Each time I tell the tale, doing my best to draw some know-it-all-kid from a life of crime, someone always seems to ask, ' What happened to your brother?'

Looking them in the eye and telling them 'I don't know... I may never know!' is the hardest thing I'll ever do, but I'll spend a life time doing it if it makes them see how the things they do can hurt the ones they love.

I tell myself there is nothing more important and I'll do it until the day I die if I can save just one of these kids in Michael's name.

My brother is gone and yet, even now, he never leaves me.

When Veronica called early this week explaining that Sara had contacted her, wanted to meet both of us for lunch this afternoon, I was excited at the idea of seeing her again.

In the time we were together I grew fond of the the girl, not just because I could see he loved her, but because I like her and everything about her. Thinking of seeing her again made me smile until I began to think on how painful it was going to be to see her without him.

While I needed to have the connection to him again, I wondered how I was going look her in the eye knowing she was the one person other than myself or our mother that he'd dared to want, really need in his life, only to lose her all because of me.

I wanted to say no, avoiding seeing her, facing it altogether, but I didn't, I said yes. Now, here I stand, outside, waiting for Veronica to arrive so I can go in there, see her face, check on her; make sure she is safe and happy, not for me, but for Michael, because I know he'd want me to just that and I do all I can for him now, even if he'll never know.

Waiting for a table, watching out the window for Sara to show, the hostess explains she had arrived early, already been seated, before showing us quickly to a table all the way to the rear of the restaurant.

With her back to the wall, facing the door, I see her sweet, kind, forgiving eyes immediately as we begin to cross the long narrow room.

She smiles at me as we approach and the smile I give in return is sincere, relieved to see, even at a distance, that the broken, tired, burden of all that happened written all over her face the last time I saw her has faded away.

She looked good, happy even.

All of us greeting one another, taking our seats, ordering a meal all seems normal enough until I begin to pick up on a strange undercurrent between the two women.

While we all go about exchanging the expected 'what have you been up to's ', all of us doing our best to be as positive as possible about what life has given us with all that was taken from him running through the back of our minds, the two of them, ignoring me, begin to look at one another oddly.

Staring intently during long stretches of not saying a word, broken only occasionally by idle chatter for my benefit, in what I guess quickly is little more than a need on both their parts to make everything seem normal while keeping something from me. I grow tired of it, ready to get to the point, whatever that point may be, and clear my throat loudly before speaking just to draw their attention. "What is it? I can tell it's something... Did you hear from him, Sara?"

Believing V to have been in the know all along from the looks they gave one another, I'm shocked to watch her turn, obviously as curious as I am, waiting for the answer she apparently doesn't have either.

" No, I haven't heard anything. I would have told you if I had... There is something, though..."

Cutting me out again, the two of them watching one another carefully, Veronica twisting her hair in thought, opening her mouth several times to speak, stopping each time before eventually finding the nerve to say what was on her mind. " Sara... you're pregnant, aren't you?"

Neither one looks at me right away, their eyes remaining glued on one another as she speaks in a choked whisper. " Yes, I am."

I can only imagine the look on my face, starting off with a strained, half-hearted smile as, like a complete jackass, I assume that, in the months since he left, she'd met someone and started a new life without him, quickly shifting to something I can't even begin to fathom as I see tears in both their eyes, realizing she hadn't moved on at all... realizing what it is she's trying to tell me. " Michael? "

My voice tearing them away, like they'd just remembered I was there, draws their gaze from one another back to me. "You're telling me you're going to have Michael's baby? "

Watching her nod her tear filled reply, I, frustrated, angry, and feeling more things than I can process, begin, without thinking, throwing words at her.

"What?...

No!...

It can't be...!"

I keep at it, my gut twisting painfully inside me, until sounding harsher than intended, I tell her, nearly shouting in disbelief,

" I don't believe it!

Show me...

Stand up! "

Even if she should tell me to go to hell for the way I've spoken to her, she instead, without saying a word, slips off the chair, out from behind the table, and stands silently next to me offering the physical proof of what she says.

Seeing the truth before my eyes, my anger falls away and is quickly replaced by an overload of pain and wishing for things that cannot be.

Without thinking, I reach out to touch her tiny rounded stomach before stopping myself short, realizing that with my behavior, she likely fears me and doesn't want me near her let alone touching her. " Sorry! I was too young with LJ... I didn't understand... I..."

Stammering for what to say, desperate to touch what's left of him, she takes my hand in hers, placing it in just the right place so that after a moment or two I feel the tiniest moment under my fingers. " I'm sorry, Linc. I should have told you sooner. I was sick early on; afraid I'd lose the baby. I didn't want to tell you too soon... You're all we have left of him ... Please don't be angry. "

" Oh God! No! I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm not angry with you. I; It's just ... Anything, everything you need, I'm here, Sara. "

" How far along are you? Like I'd forgotten she was there at all, I glance over at the sound of her voice, watching her for only an instant, taking note of tears on her cheeks before turning my attention back quickly for the answer.

She moves the palm of my hand, pushing it down just a little as she speaks. The faint flutter of movement under the rough skin of my hand is unmistakable. " Six months. Well ... not quite six, yet. Next week will be six."

Realizing she'd been pregnant nearly the whole five weeks we were together, taking ridiculous male pride in it, the sort of thing I'd have been overjoyed to have thrown in his face, making a big deal of, man-to-man, how quick and efficiently he'd gotten the job done; another thought, one difficult to grasp, begins to poke its way into my head. " Wait? You knew you were pregnant when you sent him away?"

Tension mounting all around us, Veronica steps in doing her all to diffuse the situation. â€œLinc, that's not always case. She may not. All the stress, everything that the three of you were going through, I don't see how she could have..."

" She's a doctor, V. She could have ... She should have." My attention focused on the woman across the table, I feel the one under my hand pulls away, stepping back, taking her seat again as she speaks the truth I already feel in my bones. " I knew. He wouldn't have gone if I told him and you know it."

All the emotion inside me boils over and I begin to feel hot tears stinging the skin of my face as I fight for control. " You let him walk out on his unborn child? You have no way of knowing... You shouldn't have done that...Making him do that was..."

Slapping my hand in frustration on the tabletop harder and louder than I'd intended, I'm shocked by her gentle kindness reaching out and covering my hand with her own as she speaks. " I understand what you're saying. All evidence to the contrary, Michael and I talked a lot during those weeks..."

Squeezing my fingers as hard as her tiny hand will allow while my eyes focused on the tabletop instead of her, I give in, looking up and into her eyes, watching her face carefully as she pleads her case. â€œI know about your father, Linc. I knew. I didn't care. I still don't! I'm sorry, but all that mattered to me then - and now, for that matter, was knowing he'd be safe."

" NO...!" Scrubbing the top of my head, dragging the tips of my fingers hard over the skin, grateful for a rough nail scraping at my flesh making me feel real physical pain right along with the clenching of my heart in my chest, I draw my hand from hers pushing my chair away from the table, refusing to accept it all, doing all I can to push away the reality of what I'm hearing. " No! I don't accept this. I won't! I'll go after him. I'll find him... I'll go after him, find him, and bring him back to the two of you."

My mind made up, I get to my feet ready to leave that very instant, more than ready to walk out and do whatever has to be done until she stops me by grabbing a hold of my arm. "You can't do that. I've been up front about it all along, everyone, all the people looking for him, knows this is Michael's child, if he comes anywhere near either of us they'll catch him!"

Undeterred I fish a twenty from my wallet and toss it on the table. " Make sure she has the numbers to reach me for anything she needs before you walk out of here, V!"

Realizing she is still holding onto me, I lean in, prying her fingers slowly from my arm while kissing the top of her head. " I can and I will, Sara. I should have died in that chair six months ago. Michael saved me. Then, without a thought for himself, he gave up his future to save my son."

I move in, pulling her to me, wrapping her gently in my arms, and brushing my lips lightly against her soft cheek while whispering the promise that I'd give my life to keep. "He found a way, Sara. I won't let him lose his child...lose you...lose everything! It's my turn now and I'll find my own way."

THE END?

Okay, maybe not the end. Let's call it the end of my own little season one and Time to Go can go on hiatis for the next 10 weeks and wait and see if the story is renewed for a second season this summer.  
Come on! You let them get away with leaving you hanging for 4 months.

Now that its done I'd love to hear what you thought. Good, bad,  
spot on or hard to buy. Anything! If you are hestitant to leave comments E mail me at: 


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